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Everyone stared at the naked, twitching body. When it eventually stopped convulsing, Ellen rushed over and placed a cloak over him, making a quick examination as she did so. “It is Nosmas,” she called back to the others in shock.
“Who’s Nosmas?” Sam whispered to Brin, who shrugged his shoulders. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“My son,” Vicky cried out and ran forward, throwing herself on the ground next to the unconscious man, tears streaming down her face.
“How is he?” Tor asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“Alive,” Ellen replied. “I can find nothing physically wrong with him. Maybe the transformation has exhausted him.”
“Should we try to wake him?”
The young witch shook her head. “It will be safer to let him come round naturally. Sleep is probably the best thing for him right now.”
Tor nodded then turned to Yafen. “How much further till we reach your camp?”
The skelk regarded Nosmas curiously before turning his murky yellow eyes towards Tor. “A few hours yet. Is it safe to carry him?”
“It will have to be. We cannot leave him behind.”
“I will take him,” Yafen volunteered. “Though you may want to put some clothes on him first. It will start to get cooler as night draws nearer.” Tor raised a questioning eyebrow. Though Yafen was tall, he was thin and did not appear strong enough to carry a full grown man for any distance. “Skelks are much stronger than we appear,” Yafen responded, as though he could hear the Prince’s thoughts.
Vitkin, Tor’s elder brother, rummaged in his backpack and produced trousers and a shirt. They were a little small for Nosmas, whose muscular body was bulkier than any of those present, but would have to do. When he was fully clothed, Yafen placed his long black arms around the inert body and skillfully threw him over his shoulder.
Grunting slightly as he straightened, he once more took the lead. Everyone fell into place behind him and the rest of the journey was made in silence. They had just lost two members of their recently merged party and nobody felt much like talking. Once they reached the skelk camp and were settled round a fire, discussions would begin, but until then they all remained lost in their own thoughts.
Vicky walked directly behind Yafen, holding Nosmas’s unresponsive hand. She was too emotionally numb for her mind to cope with anything other than forcing her legs to keep moving. For the first time in her life she felt old and frail. She had just lost her husband, a man she had learned to despise since the loss of their only son. Until today, she had believed that Nosmas had died in a fight and she had placed the blame squarely on Bellak’s shoulders. Now he had been returned to her and it was too late for her to apologise to the old wizard and tell him how much she really loved him and missed him. So much sorrow mixed with so much joy was more than she could cope with.
The three royal brothers walked together, Vitkin in the lead. His long dark hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail, held in place by a piece of dirty string. The frown that creased his rough face seemed a permanent feature. He had travelled with Lycane since the start of the quest and, though he did not consider the man a friend, he had been a pleasant enough companion and he could not understand what had possessed Bellak to take him with him when he had jumped to his death. The wizard killing himself was confusing enough, but to murder someone while doing it was unexplainable. Maybe Nosmas knew the answer.
Tor, younger than Vitkin by less than a year, was slimmer and slightly shorter. Though they were brothers, the two Princes looked so different from each other it was hard to believe they were related. The parts of Tor’s face that were not hidden behind his facial hair were covered in lines, but these were caused by laughter rather than frowns. He had been friends with Bellak for a long time and, though he had often driven him to extreme anger, he would miss the old wizard greatly.
Cirren, the youngest, was in his mid-twenties, though often acted younger. The quest they were all on was slowly forcing him to grow up. He had not known either of the two men who had died well, but he had recently lost all of his companions, including the girl he was going to marry, so he understood how everyone was feeling and remained quiet. His long blonde hair hung loose and he often had to brush it back, revealing his stunning blue eyes and handsome face.
Seth came next, walking with Dal. He too had known Bellak for a while and was deeply saddened by his death, though he was glad that Nosmas was with them once more. Dallan, more commonly known as Dal, a young cousin of the three Princes, had joined the group more recently, having run away to avoid his twin sister’s wedding. Tor and his team had briefly visited his family’s estate and Dal had followed them when they had left. Tor had reluctantly agreed to let him stay with them, mainly due to the fact that he did not trust the young man to return home if he was sent away.
He was a good looking youth; you could almost call him beautiful, with curly blonde hair and deep blue eyes that made most women jealous. He kept glancing at Seth as they walked. He had not personally known Bellak long so did not feel the pain that the others did, but he knew that Seth was suffering and he was concerned for his friend. Seth’s ginger hair and brown eyes, combined with his overlarge nose, did not make him ugly, but nobody would ever be able to describe him as attractive, but Dal did not care about his looks. During their journey he had developed deep feelings for him and had once kissed him. Seth had pushed him away, but not before he had started to respond. The incident had caused a lot of friction between the pair and, though they had now managed to put their problems aside, it was not forgotten and both of them thought of it often.
Sam walked behind them, her hand in Brin’s. Of the group, she alone knew of the encounter between the two young men and the emotional issues they were both trying to cope with. She noticed Dal’s hand kept twitching as it started to reach out towards Seth’s before he realised what he was doing and quickly pulled it back.
She looked at the elf walking beside her and had to smile. He had brought her a joy she thought she would never again experience since the death of her fiancé and the grief which had caused her to miscarry their child. Sam thought he was the most beautiful creature she had ever met; the green hue of his skin enhancing his attractiveness. His strange way of speaking, placing pauses in the middle of his sentences, combined with his almost musical voice, made her stomach tingle every time she heard him talk. The fact that he was not human did not bother her; she loved him deeply and trusted him with her life. And more importantly, he felt the same way, though she could not understand why. She was rather plain looking and the best way she could be described was average.
Brin, however, saw the person underneath and found her intriguing; there was a strangeness about her that he found irresistible. This may have been caused by her being from another world, but he did not know enough humans to be certain and he did not care enough about the cause to give it much thought. She made him happy, what else mattered?
Brin had only just met Lycane and had not known Bellak well, so he felt no sense of loss. He had not liked the wizard much, mainly due to his unfair treatment of Sam. Sam had hated the old man. Though it had been Tor who had sought out a witch when he needed a ‘guide from another world’, it had been Bellak whom Sam always blamed. When the witch had cast the spell that had dragged Sam from her own world, Bellak had been expecting a man, not a young woman, and had taken out his disappointment on her by being spiteful, vindictive and constantly lying to her. When she had proved to be an asset to the team, Bellak had mellowed, but the mutual animosity had been too deep for them ever to become friends, even when they were no longer enemies. As a result, though Brin was not glad that the old wizard was dead, he did not see it as much of a loss either.
Modo, a vexen, followed closely behind them. Sam had screamed when she had first encountered him, but had quickly become used to his presence. Like a skelk, his skin was black, but where Yafen’s was smooth, Modo’s was scaly and completely hairless. His over-politeness towards women made him instantly likeable and Sam soon learned to appreciate his unique optical abilities; though his face only had one large black eye, in the middle of his forehead, he had another eye at the end of each of the three fingers on both hands. This made seeing round corners or over walls easy for him.
Ria, an acrobat and ex-thief, walked alongside Ellen, a hearth witch. The two women, though coming from completely different backgrounds, were good friends. Ria had been brought up on the streets. Her lithe body, long blonde hair and pleasant features had made her a target for many unwanted sexual advances and she had learnt how to fight at a very young age. She became a highly accomplished thief and, when her acrobatic ability brought her to the notice of a travelling circus, the owner had persuaded her to give up her life of crime and become a performer. It had worked out well, until the ring-master had gotten drunk one night, broke into her caravan and attempted to rape her. She almost killed him before Tor burst in on them and dragged her away. She had been with Tor and his team ever since, using her street skills whenever necessary.
Ellen was the mother of the group. Her dark red hair perfectly offset her bright red eyes. Though no older than most of her companions, her skills as a hearth witch were used to take care of them whenever they were sick or injured. She did a lot of the cooking, with only Seth, whose culinary skills surpassed everyone’s, doing more. She had also made herself responsible for Patrick, keeping his clothes clean and mended, though until recently he had rarely shown his appreciation.
Patrick brought up the rear. The sadness that flowed through him did not manifest itself in his appearance. As usual, he was immaculately dressed in skin tight black leather trousers and a white silk shirt, partially unbuttoned. He truly was a magnificent human specimen, and he knew it. He had used his seduction skills to bed many women and even the curse that was now on him did not teach him his lesson. He had seduced, then deserted, a powerful witch. Her punishment was to curse him with eternal life. He could die, and often did, but he always came back to life a few hours later. All of his friends and family had grown old and died, while he had remained young. While eternal life sounded idyllic to many men, he had come to hate it and had tried to kill himself many times, only to awaken again in great discomfort.
Though they had made better time than expected, it was long past sundown by the time they drew close to the ruins of the watchtower where the skelk had set up camp and everyone was tired and hungry. Nosmas was showing signs of awakening as they approached, so Yafen laid him on the ground and went on alone. He needed to convince his tribe that the visitors were friendly, as the only encounters they had had with humans had not ended well.
As soon as Yafen departed, Ellen rushed to tend to Nosmas, who was attempting to sit up. “Easy,” she said softly as she gently pushed him back down. “Let me check you out before you overexert yourself.”
As she quickly performed her ministrations, Ria wandered over. “Are you wondering whether you can still get away with brushing him?” Patrick asked, noticing the way she was appraising Nosmas’s body.
Her response was not very polite, causing both Nosmas and Ellen to grin. Unabashed, Patrick continued to bate her. “Or are you trying to work out how many times he has seen you naked while he was a wolf?” He turned his attention to the person in question. “You need to describe that to me sometime. In great detail.”
Ria hit him then stomped away. “What did I say?” Patrick asked Ellen, rubbing his arm. The witch just shook her head and continued analysing Nosmas.
Yafen soon returned to lead them to the ruins of the watchtower. Despite his protests, Nosmas was once more hoisted over the skelk’s shoulder and carried. “I am not an invalid,” he muttered, but nobody took any notice of him.
The watchtower itself, though mainly intact, was crumbling in places and looked as if it would collapse at any moment. Close by were a number of outbuildings that appeared, at first glance, to be in a relatively good state of repair. The orange glow of a fire could be seen inside one of them, making it a welcoming sight after a long and tiring journey. It was to this building that Yafen headed, laying the still grumbling Nosmas gently on the ground before heading inside.
“Should we follow him?” Ellen asked Tor, who nodded his head as he strode past her into the building. Yafen was sitting cross legged on the floor next to four others of his race.
“These are the tribal leaders,” the skelk explained, with a slight inclination of his head in their direction. A wonderful aroma drifted from the other end of the room, where Tor could see a large pot suspended above a cooking fire. Tor’s stomach growled, making Yafen grin. “They have already eaten, but you are more than welcome to help yourself.”
Tor thanked him and made his way over to the cooking pot. He was pleasantly surprised to find enough wooden bowls and spoons had been placed beside it for the entire group. Soon everyone was sitting by the tribal leaders, eating their fill. The stew was a strange colour and left an odd aftertaste in the mouth, but it was warm and filling so nobody complained.
When everyone’s hunger had been sated, Yafen stood up. “The elders would like to hear more about the quest you are on, and the role each of you play in it, if you are willing to enlighten them.”
“Your people have been very hospitable,” Tor replied amiably. “We would be more than happy to talk with anyone you wish us to.” He did not look at his team as he spoke; there was no need. He knew they would all be willing to join in the conversation. He then regarded Nosmas thoughtfully. “Now may be a good time for you to fill us all in on how you ended up as a wolf,” he observed. “You might also wish to mention why your hair is now grey. I distinctly remember it being black the last time I saw you.”
Nosmas nodded his assent and indicated that Tor should start his story.
“Vitkin, Cirren and I are Princes from Remeny. When our father died unexpectedly, his will set us on a quest. The first one to reach the final destination will be crowned King.” The group then took it in turns to say how they joined Tor’s team and why. Tor explained how they had discovered that there was a curse on the will that caused the last Prince to reach each destination to kill himself. The talk went long into the night and eventually only Nosmas and Vicky had yet to speak. All eyes turned towards them eagerly.
Nosmas’s head had been bowed and he now raised it to look at Tor. “I was paying one of my rare visits to my parents when I first heard about the King’s death. Father had worked with him closely on a number of occasions and was deeply saddened by the news, so I decided to delay my departure for a while longer. When I close my eyes I can still see the excited look on the old wizard’s face when he brought home the news of the quest and announced that we would all be travelling with you.”
Vicky took over, placing her hand gently on her son’s knee when he started to continue. “My husband and I argued and argued. I did not want to leave my home and my son had commitments elsewhere, but Bellak would not listen and eventually we both agreed to go with him just to shut him up. It is a decision I will regret for the rest of my life.”
Nosmas gently patted her hand and looked towards the attentive skelks. “We went with my father on some of the adventures you have already heard about. The troubles began when we ran into Vitkin and some of his friends and hired thugs. A big fight ensued, with a lot of injuries on each side. Only my father actually witnessed me being bitten by Lycane, one of Vitkin’s men. He had met him before and, knowing he was a werewolf, knew what my fate would be.”
“What!” Vitkin shouted, jumping to his feet. Vicky also looked shocked.
“I take it you did not know.” They both shook their heads. Nosmas shrugged his shoulders, indicating that their ignorance had no bearing on his tale, then continued. “Father told everyone I had died in the fight, hoping to take my mother to me and tell her the truth once Tor and his company had departed and we were alone. Unfortunately, mother did not react at all well to the news of my death and, before father had chance to tell her the truth, she had left with Vitkin, vowing to do everything in her power to make my father suffer.”
“I should have known,” Vicky said softly. “I should have trusted him.”
“Nobody blames you,” Nosmas said affectionately. “You had no way of knowing. Moving on, by the time I regained consciousness, we were alone. Father explained what had befallen me and what would happen to me every full moon. Between us we went through every spell, incantation and potion we knew about that could possibly be of any help and in the end decided to give one a try. It worked, kind of.”
He grimaced as he continued. “I no longer turned into a wolf each time the moon was at its fullest. Instead, the curse had been reversed. I was doomed to spend the rest of my life on four legs and covered in fur, only becoming human for one night each lunar cycle.”
“That explains Bellak’s strange behaviour each full moon,” Sam murmured, only to receive a number of questioning looks. “What? You didn’t notice?”
“Notice what?”
“Whenever the moon became large he became fidgety and unsettled, then he would go off to be alone with Samson.”
“She is right you know,” Seth confirmed. “Though until now, I had never noticed the pattern.”
“She is very observant,” Brin agreed before adding, “for a human.” He threw her a mischievous grin.
“Can I continue?” Nosmas asked, but did not wait for a reply. “Realising the only way to save me was to kill the werewolf who had bitten me, father decided to return to Tor and do everything he could to help him solve the clues, hoping to bump into Lycane again. He became obsessed with hunting for him.”
“We noticed,” Ria said dryly. “Why did he call you Samson?”
“He thought it rather fitting. The curse had been reversed so he decided reversing my name would be appropriate.”
“He always did have a strange sense of humour,” Vicky grumbled. “But why did he not come looking for me to explain everything?”
“You made it pretty clear that the only time you wanted to see him again was when he was lying in his grave. He knew you would not believe anything he said to you. His only hope was to cure me.”
“And it seems to have worked,” Tor commented.
“How do we know?” Sam interrupted before Nosmas could reply.
“Have you missed the fact that he is no longer a wolf?” Patrick said sarcastically.
“How do we know he will not change back at the next full moon?”
Silence filled the room. She had a good point and they all knew it.
“For my piece of mind, can we assume that I am cured for now please?” Nosmas looked at Vicky, who had gone pale. “What is wrong mother?”
“I have just realised that Bellak killed himself in order to save you. How can I have misjudged him so badly?” Silent tears flowed down her face.
“You are not the only one to have misjudged him,” Sam said quietly.
“He did treat you very poorly,” Tor said gently to her.
“Maybe,” Sam replied. “But I thought he was just concerned about winning. If I had known his real reason...”
“It would have made no difference,” Tor interrupted her. “There is no justifiable reason for his treatment of you. Now, it is late, I suggest we all try to get some sleep.” He turned his attention towards his hosts. “I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality. Where may we settle down for the night?”
Once again it was Yafen who responded. “This room is completely at your disposal, but we cannot offer you anything comfortable to sleep on I am afraid.” Tor assured him that that was not an issue; they were used to sleeping on the ground. Yafen continued. “You may leave whenever you wish, of course. The only thing we ask is that you do not enter any other building until the morning, when I will accompany you. No insult is intended, but we do not wish you near our females and children. I hope you understand.”
They all understood completely. If a group of skelks arrived at a human village, not only would they be kept away from the women and children, but they would probably have armed guards surrounding them at all times.
Once the skelks had departed, everyone selected an area of floor for themselves and were soon asleep. No guards were posted. They were staying inside the skelk camp. If they were going to be attacked, posting a guard would not make any difference to the outcome. Besides, the skelks had already displayed a great deal of trust and it seemed insulting not to offer them the same courtesy.
Sam awoke the next morning to the smell of freshly baked bread. She carefully moved Brin’s arm from around her, hoping not to wake him, and sat up. Half a dozen skelk had entered the building, some carrying a wooden tray piled high with slices of very dark bread and others pitchers of water.
“Breakfast,” Yafen announced, noticing that nearly everyone was awake. Once their burdens had been placed on the ground, four of the servers quickly departed, their unease at being close to the visitors evident in their manner. One who remained looked different from the others; its skin was dark grey rather than black and the hair that ran down from its head was pure white.
“Let me introduce you to my mother,” Yafen said.
“We are honoured to meet you,” Tor said, bowing towards the skelk, who made a sound much like a schoolgirl giggling.
“It was she,” Yafen continued, “who recommended we make this site our new home when we first chanced upon it and she has agreed to help you find what you seek.”
Tor gestured for the elderly skelk to sit down and, while they all ate, he explained why they were there and what they were looking for. “We know that the keep itself is in a nearby valley, but we have been led to believe that there is a secret passage leading from the watch-tower to the keep.”
“If it is here, my mother will find it,” Yafen assured the listeners. “She has an uncanny knack of finding hidden things.” His tone suggested that there were a few interesting stories behind that comment, but nobody was impolite enough to enquire.
“I know the location of what you seek.” The voice coming from Yafen’s mother was deep and powerful, contradicting her appearance. “Behind the stairs, where it is always dark, I found that part of the floor sounded different when I walked on it. I took a look through the stone floor and discovered a flight of stairs, leading downwards.”
“You looked through the stone?” Seth enquired, thinking he had misheard.
“Something I forgot to mention,” Yafen said, slightly abashed. “My mother has the ability to move through stone.”