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Travis was confused. He had been dragged away from the fortress, but somehow, he was back. He was looking into the great hall from the outside, as if crouched in one of the windows set high in the stone walls. Beneath him, the children were huddled in the room made from screens. They clutched cups of hot water and wiggled their toes in front of a freshly-stoked fire.
Alexander and his lackeys stood on a platform built from stacks of rubble overlaid with a broken tabletop. “We have more right to a voice in our future than any other Maranner, yet we have none. We are expected to keep the law, but we have no say in the laws being made. Here—” He made a sweeping gesture as if indicating the whole of Larna. “There are no laws save the ones we choose to make. There is no waiting to breed until a lad comes of age. Many of you are more than ready to begin sowing your seed, and our survival depends on you doing exactly that.”
Some of the other lads nodded. Murmurs of agreement were like poison in Travis’s ear. How could they accept Alexander’s ideas so easily? Was it so simple to turn their backs on their mothers and fathers, on their instructors and the council members, on their kingdom and the laws that held it up?
“Where are the women you told us about, Xander?” Ruben spoke up. The older boy stood with his back to a screen, making room for the younger ones to be closest to the fire.
“Not far,” Alexander said.
“Boar-shit,” Craiden said. He stood near Ruben with his arms folded. “You said you’ve seen them. Show them to us or give us that stone so we can go back to Marann. At least we have plenty of food there.”
Craiden could be a jerk, but Travis was glad to hear him challenge Alexander.
“That stone is dangerous,” Ruben said. “We shouldn’t be using it. Magnus had it locked in the temple for a reason.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alexander spat. “It’s not dangerous. My sire used it countless times without harm.” He pulled the stone from his pocket and waved it around, as if to demonstrate how safe it was to handle.
“Yeah, and look where it got him,” Craiden said.
All eyes turned to Alexander, whose face twisted with rage. “There is one reason and one reason only my sire is dead. Magnus.” He growled the name, making the hairs on Travis’s neck stand on end. “If you want to see where loyalty to that Danu-whipped coward gets you, you have only to look outside. At the trail left in the snow when the wild beasts dragged my little brother away.”
A soft growl issued from Travis’s throat, and it sounded strangely animalistic. What Alexander had just said disturbed him, but not as much as the fact he was here, high up in the shadows of the hall, when he had been beaten and supposedly dragged away.
That confusion from earlier returned. What was happening to him? Why did he feel warm and protected and yet his vision insisted he was in a cold, dark place, eavesdropping on his brother? Why did it feel like gentle hands were washing his face with a damp rag and smoothing his hair off his brow?
“Ask yourselves this,” Alexander went on. “Would you rather wait for a slim chance at breeding with Anya’s get—if it happens to be a girl? Or would you rather have free access to this?” He held the gemstone aloft, and red light spiraled from it, coalescing into a flat oval, like one of the mirrors the ladies used to apply their cosmetics. The eerie light made Alexander’s eyes glow crimson.
While Travis watched, skin crawling at the casual use of dark magic, an image took shape on the mirror-like surface. A lean, hooded figure stood by a tree. Snow covered the ground. In the distance, a small doe nosed at the snow, looking for roots to nibble. The figure silently raised a bow and let an arrow fly. It struck the doe in the neck. The animal took flight, arrow protruding, and the figure gave chase. The wind of the figure’s speed caused the hood to fall away. Flowing flame-colored hair whipped out and streaked the air in the figure’s wake. It was a young woman, fleet enough of foot to catch up to the wounded doe and slit its neck with a dagger.
The hall fell silent.
Alexander spoke into the silence. “She’s out there. And there are more where she comes from. But before we can bring them here, we must make this place habitable, and we must arm ourselves well. Because once we have women here, word will spread. We must be strong enough to protect what’s ours.”
Travis heard himself growl again. The vision of the hall shifted. He had the sensation he was on four legs, turning from the scene below and dashing on silent feet down a crumbling set of stone stairs exposed to the elements. The vision faded, and he was in the dark.
No. Not the dark. Warm light pressed at his eyelids. The soft touch he’d felt before came again. “You saw it, didn’t you?” said a kind voice.
He blinked his eyes open. His face and body ached, but he was warm. He seemed to be in a cavern of sorts, judging by the low, rocky ceiling. The scent of fresh hay and the comfort of thick blankets surrounded him. Beside him was a young woman with elfin features and white-blond hair. Her lips were the color of spring roses, and they covered teeth that held more bulk than that of human women like Anya and Seona. This young woman was wolfkind.
He blinked a few more times, certain he was dead and seeing a vision of an angel.
“Braeden’s at the fortress,” she said, wringing a cloth over a bowl of steaming water that smelled of garlic and astringent. She wore a loose-fitting tunic and doeskin leggings. “He let us see through his eyes, so we know what the enemy is planning.”
Travis frowned, and it hurt his jaw. The things the girl said made no sense. No one could see through the eyes of another. Something hot tricked over his lip.
“Oh, there it goes again.” She dabbed a dry cloth at his upper lip. “I just got your nose to stop bleeding, and now I’ve upset you, and it’s going again. I’m sorry. What’s your name? Mine’s Nenna.”
He licked his swollen lips, tasting traces of blood. “Travis,” he answered. “Am I dead?” If he was, that would explain the magic of seeing through the eyes of another. Maybe angels could do that. “Are you an angel?”
She smiled, and her pale cheeks bloomed with color like the sky under a red sunset. “No, silly. You’re very much alive, and I’m no angel.” Her laugh was musical. Travis wanted to capture the sound in a jar and listen to it over and over again.
“You’re too beautiful to be real,” he blurted.
Her blush deepened. His tongue felt like it was tied in a knot.
“Well, I am real. But I can imagine my existence comes as a shock to you. My people have taken great pains to remain hidden here in the caves.” Her eyes went distant, and her voice darkened. “Outsiders are cruel. All of them. But not you. I could sense it. That’s why Vera let me bring you here.”
Caves? Her people? Outsiders? His head hurt trying to make sense of it all. “Where is here?”
“Our home,” Nenna said, simply. “This is my room.”
He took in his surroundings more fully. The cavern had rough walls, but the floor was smooth with packed dirt. A small fire provided adequate heat. The smoke drifted through a wide crack in the stone. A rough-hewn cabinet with carved doors held a stone basin and a wooden pitcher. Besides the pallet, it was the only furniture in the space.
“It’s nice,” he said. And he meant it. He felt warm and safe, even though his body ached and his stomach growled.
Nenna beamed. She looked like she wanted to say more, but a shrill whistle sounded from a dark opening across the cavern. “Oh. That’ll be Vera. She went hunting. Do you think you can rise, or shall I bring the food to you?”
Travis’s curiosity overpowered his pain. He rolled to his hands and knees, testing his body. He had broken ribs that were very sore when he breathed, but someone had bound them for him. His face felt hot and puffy. The skin was tight with healing. “I can get up,” he said, hoping it was true.
He got to his feet slowly, and Nenna rushed to his side. She slung one of his arms around her shoulders and performed the duties of a crutch. A very pretty crutch. She was taller than him and appeared to be around twenty. Not quite a woman, but no longer a girl. Not that he had any experience judging the ages of young females.
By the goddess. He was with a female! A young one! The realization struck him like a blast of joyous sunshine after a long storm. A female had her arm around his waist, was helping him hobble on bruised legs through Larnian caves.
“Who are you?” He shook his head. “I mean, who are your people? Are you Larnians?”
They entered a dark tunnel. It was short, and at the end was another glowing cavern. In this cavern, a larger fire flickered in a fireplace built with mortared stone. A chimney of black shale rose to the high ceiling. This cavern had many carved pieces of furniture, including a low bench that Nenna directed him toward.
A slender woman with fire-colored hair nodded at them as she hung a cloak on a rack of antlers from a large elk. He recognized her from the hall—from the mirror-like surface that had come from the gemstone. “We’re the Remnant,” the woman said, answering his question. Her face was not as open and friendly as Nenna’s.
“We saw you in Braeden’s communication,” Nenna said. “Those boys used magic to watch you hunt. You found us a doe. Yum!” She bounced on her toes, jostling Travis and making him wince. “Oh, sorry. This is Vera. Vera, I learned his name. Our new friend is Travis.”
Vera eyed him but said nothing. She passed into a tunnel and disappeared.
Nenna lowered Travis to the padded bench. “I’ll go help her bring in the meat.” She dashed into the tunnel on light feet, and Travis stared after her. As she disappeared into the darkness, he saw her pulling her arms into her tunic, as if to remove it. Blinking, he tried to make sense of everything.
The Remnant. What did that mean? Was he in the caves Alexander had mentioned—the caves where monsters lived? He didn’t see any monsters. Only pretty women.
Heavens! Magnus needed to know about this! There really were women in Larna! Wolfkind women!
But how would he get to Magnus? Where was he? Still in Larna, for certain, since he’d been brought here by Nenna. She didn’t seem strong enough to carry him far. His cheeks warmed at the thought of being in her arms, even if he’d been unconscious at the time.
A rustling in the tunnel made him look up. It sounded like growling, and like paws scrabbling over stone. The sounds grew louder, and made him tense. They were wolf sounds. Magnus kept tame wolves for tracking and hunting, but wild wolves were very dangerous. Especially Larnian wolves.
He looked around for something, anything, he might use to defend himself. There were tools by the fireplace, but he didn’t think he could get his damaged body to them quickly enough.
He was out of time. A great white wolf emerged into the cavern, rear end jerking and front half lowered as if dragging something. When it came fully into the light, the wolf’s cargo was revealed as a limp deer carcass.
Oh, no! Nenna had gone that way to help Vera bring in the meat. This wolf must have overtaken them.
“Nenna!” he cried, launching himself off the bench and toward the fireplace tools. His whole body ached, but he forced himself to grab up a heavy shovel for ashes. Spinning around, he brandished it at the wolf. “Back!”
He had to get past the thing to search for Nenna.
The wolf had dragged the doe to the middle of the room, where a stony depression in the floor bore claw marks. The carcass lay in the bowl-like depression. The wolf stood over it, but it wasn’t falling on the fresh meat. Instead, it cocked its head at Travis, ears pricked in an expression of curiosity.
Travis didn’t feel threatened by the wolf and suddenly felt silly for aiming a shovel at it.
Hoping his instinct was right and the wolf meant him no harm, he edged around it, careful not to make any sudden movements. When he got to the tunnel, he turned to run and find Nenna. Instead, he ran into a solid wall of russet fur. Another wolf!
He fell back on his bottom. Pain shot up his bruised back, and he cried out.
Suddenly, the white wolf was at his side, licking his face. No, wait. It wasn’t the wolf. It was— “Nenna?” He blinked up at her worried face, which was exactly where the wolf’s enormous head had been a moment ago.
“Travis, are you all right? Braeden! You need to be more careful! You nearly ran over our guest.” She slipped her arms into the holes of the loose-fitting tunic she’d been wearing. Her leggings were nowhere to be seen.
“Sorry.” A young man’s voice sounded from inside the cavern.
Travis twisted around with some difficulty until he saw the source of the sound: a naked young man of a good height, but not yet filled out. Probably in his early twenties. Stubble shadowed his chin and cheeks, but he did not have a full beard yet.
Where had the russet wolf gone?
The boy went into the tunnel that led to Nenna’s room. He returned a minute later wearing leggings and a tunic and carrying a carving hatchet. “Normally, we eat as wolves,” he said as he lifted the hatchet and brought it down on the doe. “But Vera says that might frighten you.” He rocked the blade free then set to sectioning choice cuts. “Here.” He’d expertly hacked off a generous helping of hindquarter—Travis’s favorite, and held it out.
Gingerly, Travis got to his feet. Nenna helped him toward what must be an eating pit. He’d read about eating pits in his history lessons. His ancestors used to gather all the fresh meat into a stone bowl set into the ground. The elders in the clan would gorge themselves first. Then the rest would eat by clan order. At the end, the bones would be collected by the poor and turned into tools that could be sold or traded.
“Thanks,” Travis said, taking the hindquarter from Braeden. He tore into the meat and chewed. It was fresh and delicious. Not spiced or tenderized like the meat they prepared in the kitchen at Glendall, but warm and gamy. Refreshing.
Once he’d swallowed his first bite, Nenna and Braeden dug in. Clearly, they were a civilized bunch, not like the ancient wolfkind from his lessons.
“So, uh—you said you normally eat as wolves. Are you two—?” he wasn’t sure how to finish the question. Were Nenna and Braeden the two wolves he’d seen? Could they somehow be both wolfkind and wolf?
“We’re the Remnant,” Braeden said with relish. He widened his eyes and grinned, reminding Travis of the older boys when they would tell ghost stories to the younger ones.
Unfortunately, the word meant nothing to Travis, so he couldn’t give Braeden the reaction he was fishing for.
“The cast-offs? From the time of King Jilken?” Braeden made it a question.
He must mean the breeding experiments from long ago. Travis nodded to show his understanding.
Braeden brightened. He rose to a crouch and gestured with his rib of venison. “We were the unlovely. The unwanted. We were not what the king was looking for. So he tossed us out of the keep, leaving us for dead in the wilderness.”
As he told the tale, he moved with practiced steps around the pit. The crackling fire cast his shadow on the cavern wall. Slinging an arm around Travis’s shoulders, he waved his venison as if using it to paint an image in the air before them.
“We were left to die. But some of us lived. Wild wolves rescued us and brought us to the caves. They raised us as their own. Now we are the Remnant. We are what’s left. What was not intended, but what thrives in secret.”
Travis stared in wonder. All this time, the Remnant had been living alongside them. And they could change into wolves! The strange ability must have come about through Jilken’s use of magic to breed Larnians with wolves.
“And when they are all gone,” Braeden said, “we will emerge. We will claim our birthright and rule over Larna. The despised, the abandoned, the ones discarded. We will become the rulers over all the land.” Braeden lifted Vera’s cloak off the rack and wrapped himself in it. He spun with a flourish, making the cloak swirl in a great arc. He swept up the shovel Travis had used as a weapon and held it like a scepter, looking quite royal save for his lack of beard.
Whoa. Not only did these people exist, but they had a plan for when the last of the Larnians died off. Struck dumb, Travis looked at Nenna.
She nodded and smiled, as if she took it for granted that Braeden’s prediction would come true.
“Take off my cloak.” Vera strode into the cavern. Stopping near the pit, she tossed a rumpled bit of leather to Nenna, who caught it neatly.
Nenna shook out the leather, which turned out to be her leggings. With total disregard for modesty, she thrust her legs into them and pulled them up, then returned to devouring her hindquarter.
Vera hung her bow and quiver on the rack, along with her newly reclaimed cloak, and used Braeden’s hatchet to carve herself a shoulder. “I see Braeden has told you our history.” She wore a smirk, but her gray eyes were somber. She appeared young, because there was no gray in her hair, but her eyes seemed ancient.
Travis nodded, a little afraid of Vera. He cleared his throat and said, “All this time, you were here and no one knew.”
“Some knew,” Vera said, sinking her teeth into fresh meat. She chewed then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, leaving a grisly red smear. “From time to time, someone stumbles across us.” She met Travis’s eyes. “We don’t give them the chance to share our secret.”
Travis swallowed the lump in his throat. Magnus needed to know of the Remnant. But he had a feeling escaping these caves would be even more difficult than escaping Alexander and his lackeys.
