Chapter 5

Royce ran easily, his cat setting the pace. Wide paws moved him soundlessly through the woods, his whiskers picking up vibrations in the wind to tell him he was still moving in the right direction. The scent of rain was growing stronger the further he traveled. He already knew where the forces were staged, waiting for their orders. He didn’t doubt after Atkill’s display in the hall that he presented a threat to those at the keep. The Tanglewood cats may have been there for only a little while, but many were already feeling a sense of home. A huff was impossible at his pace when he recalled Cedri’s words and his wish to stay to support the Valda-Cree, aware it was influencing his own desire to stay at the keep.

Kygo was the accepted heir as the next clan leader, and he and Cedri were always butting heads, as brothers and as cats. Kygo’s tiger was larger side by side and he was a ferocious fighter. There was a still sharpness in Kygo that could go from silent to deadly in a heartbeat. The tigers still challenged each other, even though it was known Cedri didn’t particularly want to take over the clan after their parents. Cedri was showing astute wisdom and insight to back away by separation from the clan. It left Kygo unrestrained to do as he needed to keep the clan safe and secure, to not have to worry about his brother being right on the sideline, waiting to strike. He would never desert his brother or his family or clan, but his presence created a tension between everyone. Cedri’s decision was a logical and wise one.

Royce knew he wouldn’t leave his best friend so he would be staying with Lord Morrow, as well.

And it wouldn’t be because of that confounding mage! He couldn’t stop the growl rumbling up his throat. Thinking about Duran made him so…gah! The elf drove him and his cat demented. Even when he was trying to avoid the man, circumstances kept throwing them together. His cat wanted to get close and personal, wanted to slink against his skin, to sniff and roll all over him, bathing his senses in the lavender and spice that was all elven male. Royce couldn’t understand what drove his cat so completely mental over the elf, which meant when he wasn’t paying attention, he’d find a way to be close and personal. Like in the hall that morning. He hadn’t noticed who he’d inched closer to in the crowd when the confrontation between Lord Atkill and Lord Morrow actually took place.

He’d almost melted when Duran spoke to him. And he hated the feeling. Like his body was a livewire and Duran held the ability to turn him on and off at will. He resented the offer of help when he suggested tracking Lord Atkill and his men. All of the skin shifters knew the keep fairly well after scouting the surrounding grounds since before their introduction and running with his clan since their reveal. However, to decline would be seen as combative and in the charged atmosphere after the man at arm’s injury, it was easier on everyone to simply accept Duran’s aid to reach the outside perimeter.

At least he’d been able to leave him behind when he came to track movement. Once he knew for sure Lord Atkill and his men were departing, he’d return and relay the information. He slowed his fast-paced jog as he approached, already hearing and scenting his quarry. Sinking claws in a hefty trunk to reach thick branches overhead, he skulked from tree to tree, able to approach unseen. Wide paws better suited to snow running provided him sturdy balance as he slunk closer. Harsh voices and orders were clear. His tail twitched, the most obvious sign of his tension. A glance outward gave him a fairly open view of the sky and building storm clouds. The trees were singing with the strength of the wind blowing through them now. Rain was imminent.

A figure brandishing a sword slipped through the trees below and his lip lifted in a silent snarl. Why was a lone scout in the trees? He shadowed the guard, moving with stealthy precision through the trees, each footfall precise and silent. He was clearly tracking something, but what? There was little chance the guard knew of him, as he hadn’t once looked up or searched anything but the ground. As he slowly stalked the man, the rain started. Fat drops hit his coat and aggravated his cat. Snow? Yes. Rain? Not so much. But in a total twist, his cat loved to swim. He snorted at the thoughts. Contrary was his cat’s middle name.

Pacing his prey silently, he spied dark curls flushed and partially hidden against the rich brown bark of the trees. In the split second as recognition flared, the guard raised his sword to swipe the elf with the hilt. Duran slumped to the ground without a single sound.

The cat’s yowl of rage was instantaneous. Royce didn’t have a second to gain control before he was leaping straight down, claws extended to land on the lone man’s back. They went down hard but the cat’s reflexes were faster as he rolled and twisted out of the fall’s trajectory. The leopard went for the man’s throat before he could cry out. Oppressive silence was thick as it crushed the man’s neck, ensuring he was dead before releasing him.

He was on his own feet seconds later. “Duran, what are you doing here?” he snarled in confusion. Stretching the mage out on the ground, he ensured there was nothing serious about the knock, other than putting him out cold. Inspecting the dead soldier, his eyes widened. Lord Atkill’s insignia stamp on the man’s leathers was clear. “We have to get out of here.” He bent and hoisted Duran over his shoulder, steadying himself to carry him further into the tree line. The rain was growing heavier though the trees provided some cover.

In the moments he’d taken to rescue Duran, the mounted soldiers had started gathering for their charge. The walking soldiers were moving slower, especially hindered now by the storm which had blown in, which was the only thing going his way at the moment. The bulk of the enemy could be overtaken to try to warn the others at the keep.

“Damn you,” he muttered crossly at Duran for slowing him down. He wove through trees until he found a spot that seemed to be mostly dry and deep enough in the woods to be well-hidden. Naked himself, he had nothing to protect Duran with. “I’ll be back for you.” Without thinking or wondering why he needed to, he pressed a kiss to the mage’s cheek, his cat scenting him in a deep breath. He curled Duran up and hid him as best as he could, trying to ensure he would be protected and hoping he’d stay mostly dry. He couldn’t wait around for him to rouse. Foolish mage.

Then he shifted and pushed himself into a dead run, sprinting toward the keep. He was able to overtake the marching group. They didn’t even notice him on the edge of the woods, obscured enough to be secluded, but unable to run pell-mell through the trees. He needed wide open to reach his full stride. It wasn’t long before the keep wall appeared and he ran wide, bypassing his clothing to sprint for the gates. Slipping on already accumulating mud, he skidded through wet grass for the main keep gates. He slalomed around people in the way and aimed for the doorway of the greeting hall where he slid to a mud-tracked stop.

He pushed back the cat and shouted as soon as he could find his voice, “Atkill is attacking!”

Ulcieh pointed to a group and directed, “Close the keep gates!” A half dozen immediately ran off to do as commanded. Ulcieh jogged forward and gave him a hand up and then a blanket was tossed over his shoulders. He wrapped it snugly over his shivering frame. Rainwater was not warm. Ulcieh barked orders over his shoulder, sending men and women scurrying.

“We won’t survive,” Royce gasped through a panted rasp. “There are over two hundred armed behind him.”

Thunder cracked overhead. Royce’s energy fled, aware they were doomed before they even got started to help Jayce fulfill his journey. He sank out of Ulcieh’s grip to the stone floor, suddenly feeling very numb.

And he’d had to leave Duran out in the storm. His heart rolled heavily in his chest over his decision.

“We’ll be fine.” Ulcieh tried to convey confidence, but Royce felt the tension in his grip when he offered to hoist him off the floor again.

Jayce, Cedri, and several more approached. Everyone remained in the main hall where he’d left them, awaiting Royce’s update. Cedri quickly supported him on the other side to assist him to his feet.

“I have you,” he said kindly. Royce leaned into his friend’s strength.

Lord Eitin gathered his guard and immediately stood with Lord Morrow. “We are yours to command.” He bowed low. Harvan and the others did the same. They had chosen which side held their allegiance. At any other time, Lord Morrow would have been thrilled with their decision. This wasn’t what the man had wanted though. Staring at the numerous faces surrounding them in the greeting hall, he understood why. The tension was thicker than soup.

“Stay near the gates and stop anyone trying to enter.” He turned to Cedri and Ulcieh. “You guys ready?” he demanded quietly.

Royce was aided by Cedri and one of the kitchen helpers to a side seat, worn out from the adrenaline rushed sprint for the keep. Cedri patted his shoulder to ensure he was settled before rejoining Jayce.

“Ulcieh, I want two on the keep battlement. I’m positive they think they will catch us unprepared.” Jayce spun and demanded, “Has anyone seen Master Rune’s return?”

Bankor called from the other side of the hall. “No, my lord!”

Jayce stood beside Ulcieh. “Too bad Maxon isn’t a magician. We simply don’t have enough blades.”

“My lord?”

Royce watched the events unfold, as all of the men who’d stood by waiting for Yeh Yeh’s outcome lined up shoulder to shoulder before Jayce.

Lord Morrow faced them and as one, the line of soldiers who’d stayed or had been ejected from Lord Atkill’s guard dropped to a knee and bowed their heads in united fealty. They weren’t many, but they were seasoned, and right now that was better than the none they had.

The first to speak offered, “We humbly offer our services. It would appear we are currently exiled from our previous lands.”

Royce overheard, “Can we trust them?” when Cedri twisted around to speak at Jayce’s ear.

Jayce shrugged. “Do we have a choice? We need their help and currently they’re really mad at the man who would hurt one of their own.” He motioned with a chin snap to Yeh Yeh. Jayce faced them, his voice clear and determined. “Your assistance is gratefully welcome. You’re the last line of defense to protect the women and children in this keep.”

As one they rose to their feet and smacked fists to their chests. Royce understood the order. It wouldn’t be easy to fight men they’d broken bread with that morning.

Jayce jerked on a heel and went to stride through the main doors when Cedri caught him by the arm. “Where are you going?” A loud snap of thunder vibrated the air. The onslaught of rain outside the hall doors was solid water.

Jayce chuckled wryly. “I’m the first line of defense.” His smile bordered on feral. “Don’t worry. If I can scare the shit out of them, this may not escalate at all.”

“Are you serious?”

He waved a hand. “Come watch. Been wanting to try a few things. And Rune isn’t here to yell at me for trying.”

“Lord Morrow. Jayce! Are you out of your mind?” Ulcieh demanded, astonished.

He motioned with a palm sweep to their defenses, his meaning clear. They had what they had and not a sword more. “Maybe, but do we really have a better option? They breach those doors and it’s game over for us. They have to be turned back before they have the will or a way to get through. Those entry gates are new. Let’s see if we can keep them that way.”

Leodinn stepped up. “Has anyone seen Duran? I can’t find him.”

Royce groaned, regret and remorse filling him. He’d had a choice to make, damn it! “One of Lord Atkill’s scouts attacked him after he followed me.” He folded in on himself where he sat by the wall. “I couldn’t carry him and get in front of the charge. He’s safe. I promise you.”

A horn sounded, freezing everyone in the keep with its impending warning. “We’ll worry about him next. They’re here!” Jayce sprinted out of the hall with mages and fighters on his heels.

With a hand braced against the wall, Royce pulled himself up and even as exhausted as he was, he closed his eyes and sank into his leopard. Covered by the blanket, he popped out from beneath it and, with a quick whisker twitch to get the current situation, bolted out the doors to stand with his family.

The rain had made the ground a muddy swamp, forcing him to avoid puddles all over the courtyard as he aimed for the keep gates. He could hear shouting over the swell of rain. Why would Atkill continue in these conditions? Deranged was Royce’s only conclusion.

He caught up with Cedri and Jayce to leap up the steps to the battlement walls. There were exposed dips along the walls where the stone had crumbled, as they had been low on their lists for repairs, leaving unsafe areas to stand upright. If Atkill had archers, at least they weren’t going to waste arrows in the current downpour.

Jayce strode to the front wall along the balustrade. His strong voice carried above the din and rain. “Atkill! I know you can hear me!” Quieter he spoke to Grayson, Brin, and Ulcieh flanking on either side of him. “You three ready?”

They answered with grim determination. Battle readiness had been hammered into all of them over the weeks as the keep was repaired and made livable for all. The longer they were present, the more likely an attack would become, either to route them, or to destroy what they were building. Learning strategy along with Royce’s own training with Cedri as personal guard to Jayce, a direct assault had always been a possibility, but not like this or this soon. Royce watched as they all focused unerringly on the area before the heavy wooden gates. Then Jayce calmly raised his hands, and Royce stood shell-shocked at the flickers of light zipping around his fingertips. He hadn’t seen that before!

“Retreat, Atkill! You can’t win today!”

“You’re nothing but children playing! King Bucol will pay handsomely for a lion traitor on his lands!” Several roared curses and flagrant words of outrage floated on the air behind Royce and from those at the front wall preparing for the coming attack. Apparently this deception was news to his fellow clansmen both inside and out.

Jayce snorted hard. “Was that supposed to be insulting?” he asked dismissively. He squinted through the falling rain, pushing his hair back to clear his vision. “I can see him. Third horse from the right. The idiot is right out front. You guys ready?” Everyone nodded. “When I say, give him a good shake up.” Then, “Maybe you should warn that imposter king his days are numbered!” he shouted to those below him.

A roar to charge filled the space below them.

“Now!” Jayce cried and simultaneously, the rain became sharp ice, frozen into long darts, driving toward the army like a swarm of slicing knives while the ground shook beneath their feet like a beast had awakened, unsteadying them until many were simply fighting to keep their footing, all while driven ice slashed through skin and leather. Then from above, piercing lightning struck the ground directly before Atkill’s mount in a flash of luminous white. It crackled with a blistering pop when it hit the ground. The animal reared with a high-pitched scream of terror, tossing Atkill to land with a sound splat in the muck before the animal bolted to somewhere there wasn’t lightning. Somewhere far, far away.

Chaos grew as the men tripped and teetered trying to avoid each other and their swords, and the relentless lightning strikes. Swords fell, lost on the waterlogged ground as men screamed, losing their balance and unable to protect themselves from the battering of elements. They scattered blindly to evade the torrent suddenly chasing them like a single-minded, living monster. Upheavals of ripped and jagged earth rose in plates and dumped men off their feet while rainwater and ice fell in solid sheets. Lightning struck as though it was aiming for a bullseye, strike after strike, blinding the men or herding them away from the gates until they were running into each other like blind trolls.

“The gates! Take down the gates!” Atkill’s shrill scream carried through the melee as he tried to command his men. He finally managed to lurch to his feet, but wasn’t any steadier than those surrounding him. At his command, several dozen lined up and attempted to shoulder their way through the gates.

“Hold the gates!” Leodinn shouted to those gathered below. Everyone who was able pressed body to body into the weight leveraged from the other side. Slick mud made it a nightmare as they fought to stabilize the gates with heavy braced beams and chains. Soldiers and keep inhabitants joined together and held from the inside as their attackers shoved and drove harder from the outside.

“We can’t do this forever!” Ulcieh shouted to be heard over the fighting below, timing another blast of air with a roil of land from Grayson to bludgeon several dozen to the ground, clipping more in the legs as the layers of sod and soil whipped like a wild bucking beast under his control. Leodinn and Brin had teamed up and were making use of the still falling rain, using it to blind vision and cut with the accuracy of a blade. Looking in both directions, Royce had to agree with the mage. This wasn’t going to work for much longer. There were simply too many and the mages would eventually tire.

Royce paced the battlement, staying out of everyone’s way when he spotted shapes in the distance. He rose up on his paws to brace himself against the stone enforcements. His tail whipped sporadically. There was something out there, racing toward them. But were they friend or foe?

The rain was thinning but still coming down hard enough to be used as a frozen weapon. Men were thickening in front of the gates, pushing in surges against those holding the line on the inside. The gates creaked ominously. They weren’t going to hold forever against the assault.

“My lord! Riders! To the south!” Someone stood behind Royce and seemed to finally see what he did appearing out of the murky horizon.

Jayce ran up and braced against the stone with a hand protecting his eyes, fighting to see through the rain. “Can you tell who it is?”

Suddenly Iba appeared overhead and shrieked with a screech of sound. Royce shrank down below the raven. It was instinctive to lower himself from an attack from above. And he was never happier that the bird wasn’t after his hide. When she was in attack mode, she was vicious. He’d already heard stories.

“It’s Rune!” Brin cried even as he swirled water and debris into a raging cyclone to bring it down with a swoosh over the men below, washing over them with a flood of mud and slime, aided by Leodinn. The mages were wearing them down but the armed men weren’t giving up. Royce growled, wanting to get his claws into them, fighting to keep his cat restrained. It was a death wish to attempt to get into the middle of that mess right now.

“Thank the goddess,” Ulcieh muttered. “He’s not alone. When Rune is close enough to engage from the rear, open the gates and attack!” Ulcieh ordered those close enough to hear and pass the order.

Royce watched, feeling helpless as Ulcieh aided Grayson again and again as he lifted large chunks of earth with his own controlled strong winds, using them like bludgeons against the standing force with hardly a break of attacks. Then Ulcieh staggered and slumped, sliding down to his ass on the wet walk of the parapet.

Royce was closest and shifted to crouch beside his trembling, soaked frame. “What happened? Did you get hit?” He patted Ulcieh’s shoulders, witnessing his exhaustion from pushing his ability.

“Water,” he panted, then grimaced. “Drained.”

Royce called out for water and a skin was tossed upward. He clutched it out of the air and immediately let Ulcieh drink what he needed. “You are amazing,” Royce said with truthful awe.

Ulcieh’s eyes flashed a brief dark gray then calmed. “Thank you. Need to rest a minute. Have any retreated?” He raised the skin to his lips and pulled more water down his throat.

Royce rose enough to peer over the wall with a single eyeball to the ground below in an attempt to size up the remaining force. “A good number, maybe close to a third.”

“Better than nothing,” he mused with a scratchy throat. He leaned back and let the rain wash over his face. “The rain is slowing. They will either press their attack or regroup.”

A sudden fireball erupted in the middle of the force with an explosive bang, lighting the world up brilliantly, dropping everyone watching from the walk to their knees to protect themselves.

Ulcieh smiled with a wry chuckle. “Or Rune could do that.” He twisted to hear over his shoulder. Screams and the cries of terrified horses rose above the shouts of the men and those determined to not be trampled.

Two more boulder sized fireballs landed with quick succession. It was the turn in the fight Jayce and those in the keep needed.

“Open the gates and surround! Open the gates and surround! Disarm anyone still fighting!” Leodinn’s shouted cries were immediately followed. With Rune and his group’s aid, they quickly subdued the remaining fighters who hadn’t been killed after the defense the mages had put together. Many had turned tail and fled at Lord Atkill’s admission to treason against his own clan. Others had run rather than fight when the mages began to attack in earnest. Overall, the remaining soldiers totaled less than a third from the combined forces.

Jayce hurried off the battlements and vanished from Royce’s view. “Let’s get you downstairs to rest. I think the fighters we have along with the group riding with Rune have it under control,” he said.

“Would it kill you to find clothes?” Ulcieh frowned, though the humor in his voice lightened the chastisement.

Royce chuckled even as he blushed, twisting his hips to hide at an angle. Ulcieh was at an unfortunate eye level. No one had the ambivalence the skin shifters possessed to their nakedness, it seemed. “I’ll find an overshirt. Stay here.” He rose from a crouch, relieved to see more of Lord Atkill’s men on the ground or surrendering. He frowned at the number lying still and bloody on the ground. All of this could have been avoided. The wounded. The dead. He glared at the one man responsible for so much bloodshed. Lord Atkill was being shackled by Lord Eitin himself. Good. With him restrained, his men followed quickly, dropping their swords and sinking to their knees in surrender.

Then he frowned when he recalled he wasn’t done. He had to get back to Duran. Royce hoped he was still safe and wasn’t too furious with him for leaving him behind in the woods.