Chapter Thirty-Six

You cannot hide the soul.

—Herman Melville

 

PENN WASN’T SURE how much sex was normal for newly mated Wolves or how jars of magical substances and salves never got low or empty. He knew they had to have emptied them by now with the overeager and active lifestyle they’d been living over the last week. Penn was thankful for those mystical jars and the things they did. He felt happy, healthy, and he was actively falling in love with his mate.

That high feeling dimmed as word came during morning coffee that the other packs were arriving, and the Mitchum and Steele packs had made all the preparations for the burning ceremony and consequent Tribunal. Tristan Steele and Luke Pace would also be arriving soon. Penn was anxious to see his old friend Luke, hear about his new position, and possibly get to know Tristan, someone Ryan greatly cared about. It made Penn want to like him. Penn felt that same devotion to Ryan he imagined the big man had for his own savior too.

“The Tribunal members are all arriving today,” Iver said, sitting across the island bar from Penn. “We’ll need to move to the lower Steele lands to welcome them and coordinate lodging and supplies.”

Iver got up and went into the front room. He returned with a garment and several ornaments draped over the fabric in his arms. “These are your robes and insignia to wear as my mate for a formal gathering such as this.” Iver laid them on the countertop neatly. “I’ll show you how to wear them.”

“Thank you. I’ll wear them with pride and respect for you and my position at your side,” Penn said and sipped his coffee.

“Yes. The Mitchum pack is providing a formal campground in the field close to the tree line. They will also provide a larger tent for the Tribunal. All who have come to witness will be able to attend. My siblings tell me it’s quite large. Food, water, and supplies will be provided. There are no boundary lines during the Tribunal, so all may have access to the land, lake, and rivers.”

Iver continued. “This cave is not accessible to anyone but you or me. That’s the only boundary. They will be on our land. There are sixteen Alphas, sixteen council representatives, and three Pillars to constitute this Tribunal. The Mitchum, Steele, and Bellum packs, along with myself, will not be on this panel. We’ll provide testimony and serve as witnesses. Then the Tribunal will make the judgment.

“You may not serve as a witness since you are my mate, and I have pardoned you. Others may testify about you or any role you played and the action you took, but you may not contribute.”

“Alright,” Penn said.

“Nor are you allowed to influence the Pillars,” Iver warned.

Penn understood all of this and Iver’s responsibility in telling it. Iver helped Penn with the robes after he donned the creamy-white linen pants. Like the Pillars, his outfit had red tasseled roping around the waist and a gold metal pendant pinned to the robe over his heart. The pendant matched the ink on his chest. The robes were surprisingly comfortable with all the secret buttons holding them in place.

When Iver and Penn arrived at the low lands, the gate was open, but they couldn’t see anything at first. As they crossed the abandoned fields, the white canvas tent city gradually appeared. The long tent sat far enough from the road to not raise suspicions. Many people had gathered there already, far more travelers than Penn and likely anyone had imagined. Iver wore a look of approval.

“You will meet my adoptive family today,” Iver said.

“I wish it were under better circumstances. It’s hard to be happy when my family, friends, and pack are in danger.”

“I understand this. You are still Mitchum pack. I am a Pillar and a Bellum.”

“I know,” Penn said, but it was a lot to get used to, being bonded mates from different packs with opposing links, having bonded mate links, and having a mate who could read his mind.

Iver was dressed in a military uniform. It looked so formal, with several patches and colorful bars on it. It had a B with a Wolf on the breast for his Bellum pack.

“This is my formal uniform. Since I’m a witness, I won’t dress as my siblings will,” he explained.

His long hair was tightly and intricately braided in multiple fine braids. They ran down the back of his head and over the collar of his uniform. Penn had only seen his hair like that on the scroll reading day. On regular days, he simply braided it once. This was different.

“Anyone with hair like mine is a Bellum warrior. War Wolves. We don’t cut our hair, and it is braided in rows by rank. More braids, higher rank,” Iver explained. “Come, I need to speak and counsel with my pack and father and see my mother now that they’ve all arrived.”

“Fader, Moder,” he called.

The tent front opened, and Iver stepped in, grabbing Penn’s hand and pulling him with him. He didn’t let go of Penn’s hand until Iver was surrounded by his father’s strong arms, his mother’s softer arms. Iver and his parents quietly wept as they embraced, and Penn looked down at the floor during the private moment. They wept over the loss of their family, sons, brothers, brethren, and nearly all of their best warriors. Only the twenty warriors who had guarded the pack remained. Four were here with their Alpha and his mate. Six more with council and families of the unburied. The weight of grief was heavy around them. The other ten stayed back to protect the rest of the pack and wait for word.

“Iver.” His mother wept his name. Iver kissed her on the top of her head as she shook.

“Iver.” His father sighed in relief, and Iver hugged him harder.

“My boys,” his mother sobbed, and Iver held her tight with their grief. It took a long time for them to calm down. Others from their pack also grieved with them.

When they were somewhat settled, Iver waved for Penn to move closer.

“This is Penn Jorgensen, my mate,” Iver said, introducing him to his parents.

“I am sorry for your loss and the circumstances of meeting you,” Penn said, and they both acknowledged him, but there was no other reception. Penn understood, ultimately. Pardon or not, he was still the enemy.

“We need to talk before the Tribunal,” Gundar said.

“Yes, Fader,” Iver replied as his mother cleaned his face with a cloth and straightened his hug-rumpled uniform. “I would like to talk to everyone, to only tell it once to our pack and then at the Tribunal. Can we travel to the end of the field? I was told that would be our counseling area, and the others would be located at the opposite end of the field, away from us.”

“Yes, we’ll go there now,” Gundar said and stepped out of their tent. Iver kissed his mother once more and followed with Penn at his side and slightly behind him.

Fellow packmates and members poured out of their tents, and intimidating warriors walked alongside them, keeping watch until every member of the Bellum pack had gathered in their designated tent. They sat in a large half-circle on the ground and around four chairs in the center. The guards moved to the last ring of the circle and took their posts. Everyone was quiet.

“Sit with the pack, there at the closest end,” Iver said, and Penn made his way to the end of the large group. He sat down and adjusted his robes. The woman and man next to him glanced at his insignia and then turned back to the front to their leaders.

Gundar stood in front of one of the chairs, with Hetta, his mother, to his right. Iver and a Wolf named Einar, the council representative for their pack, were on each side of their Alpha. They all sat in a chair, except for Gundar.

“Bellum pack,” Gundar said. “I have called you together so we may hear the account from Iver before the Tribunal. Please listen; we are all grieving. When Iver finishes, we will discuss and work through questions to prepare for the testimonies. We will conduct this meeting quietly.” He waved a broad hand to their surroundings.

“We are not alone.” Gundar wiped his eyes. “And I, like you, can smell them in the distance on the breeze. I can feel the agony of their trapped souls. We are here for their justice and to reach terms and reparations. Iver, you may stay seated and share with our pack.” Gundar took his seat and motioned for everyone to move in closer, and they did.

Iver stood, bowed to his father, and then sat back down. “Remember that in war, our law, as it exists now, has no definition for the form of fighting,” Iver said, and Penn observed so many sad faces surrounding him. “We expect to go into a fight and win because we are the strongest fighters amongst all Wolves. But the Mitchum pack knew we were coming. As we expected, as any pack would know. We give them time to avoid a war and leave. This is our way.”

Iver took a deep breath and continued. “Our ways are not their ways. You will be angry as you listen. Know that I am angrier than you because I was there. I saw it. I felt it. But I also understand the law. The Mitchum pack did not violate any battle laws.” Iver waited as several members muttered and hissed, and Penn’s Wolf stirred at the surrounding low growls. Iver held up his hand to silence them. “Their actions are shameful. Shame is the only punishment for their battle methods.”

Iver pulled a piece of metal out of his uniform pocket. He held it up for all to see and passed it to his father. “Father, please pass this around for every pack member to see and feel. This is the iron tooth from a pressure trap designed for large game—mountain lions, bears, Wolf. The Mitchum pack buried many of these old traps made of true iron. They concealed them in an area west of here, in a lowland called the Boar Lands. I don’t know how, but somehow, they contained the boar for their work, camouflaging these traps at the place where we would enter, and our front guard would engage.”

Penn watched as Iver reached down and massaged his nearly healed leg while the iron tooth was passed around and examined. Many smelled it before it was handed to the next pack member to inspect. Penn recalled that he too had touched it and smelled it in the same way the Bellum members were doing now. He shivered, also recalling pulling the tip from deep inside Iver’s bone. Penn turned back to the front as Iver continued with his account of that day.

“As we —the front guard—ran in, our legs sprang the traps, and down we went, captured and crippled. From the trees above, in their human form, the Mitchum pack archers finished us off. My left hind leg had the piece you inspected embedded into the bone. I recall yanking to get free, to get to Erik, my brother, who was in front of me. My trap broke as Erik went down from an arrow from above. Then, an arrow pierced my chest at the same time. I fell with Erik.”

Iver rubbed at his chest, over his heart, but went on. “While the arrows were being fired, the boars were released and charged. They were a larger herd than I have ever seen, many of them old males, thick-tusked and angry. Some of us were gored or trampled. The Bellum battle plan was for the second guard, Isak’s unit, to come in from the north and attack the cave we believed was their packhouse.”

Iver pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and glanced at Penn. Penn’s guilt rolled off him, for he’d been a part of it all. Hell, he’d been the bait. Iver’s eyes were sympathetic but turned harsh as his attention returned to the crowd.

“The cave. I was unconscious at this point but what I have put together since is the cave was a lie. They scented it and covered their scent trails to their real pack home. It lies much farther to the east on the other side of land belonging to another pack. That pack is different, a human-turned and half-turned called the Steele pack.”

Iver used his hands to explain the land division. “Mitchum lands west. Steele lands center. Mitchum lands east.”

They all nodded.

“Cave. Boar lands. Steele cabin. Lake. Packhouse.”

They nodded again and understood the landscape on the invisible map he drew for them.

“As I said, the cave was a lie. The second guard, my brother Isak’s group, attacked from the north. I can only speculate the Mitchum pack’s tactics in the cave were also dishonorable, but I did not witness this because I lay with Erik.” Iver paused and stared down at his lap. His mother gripped his arm. Through their link, Penn smelled the memory, the scent of death that still haunted Iver.

“I know Isak attacked fiercely with his unit.” Iver motioned to Penn, who then turned his face to the side as Iver had silently asked him to do. “I know, as many of you do, this is the strike to the face Isak was known for. These scars my mate wears are from my brother. Another fighter pulled Isak from Penn, and he and this warrior fought to the death.” Iver regarded his father, “Isak died as a warrior Wolf should, not from a trap and an arrow like Erik.” He turned his attention back to Penn.

Penn couldn’t believe what he’d just heard as he trailed his fingers down the long scars along his cheek.

“Yes, Penn,” Iver said. “He was my brother. And you did not know my brother Isak had marked your face before he would have killed you, as he was known to always mark his kills before the death blow.”

Penn lowered his hand as he shuddered, and the scars on his face burned with searing pain as he relived the memory. One by one, each of the marks on Penn’s body blazed as he recalled the sharp claws slicing him open. Iver closed his eyes, seeing this moment in Penn’s mind as his mate for the first time. The crowd was silent, waiting for Iver to go on.

“When I woke, I was weak, starving, piled between my brothers and brethren. I didn’t know where I was. Erik was beneath me. Isak was farther away, closer to the top of the pile. A great ravine resides within the cave; this fault forges deep into the earth. There is no soil, only stone. It is deep and so cold the water on the walls freezes as it drips. I had to pull myself through them, over Erik. The smell was unbelievable.”

Penn could see it all now, he could smell it, what his mate had endured. He focused back on Iver, still speaking to the crowd.

“Everything is slowed by the cold but not stopped. They tossed us over the edge to the bottom far below. They removed the arrow from my chest. I felt no other arrows as I crawled. It was complete darkness. Even with your eyes open, you saw nothing.

“That tooth—” Iver pointed to where the crowd still handed it around. “—was halfway into the bone, the iron poisoning my blood. I could not shift to pull it out. I couldn’t heal. I didn’t know how long we had been there, left like that, but it felt like weeks.”

Iver continued. “I have recovered a great deal, but then, I was thinner, weak, and suffering. I sent a message to my fader and moder. I wanted to die, though as a Pillar, I could not.”

Penn sensed Iver’s shame as a sense of guilt flooded his mate for surviving when the others hadn’t.

“My fader said I must honor my brothers, my brethren. They could not be left like this. So I crawled to the sound of water. My Pillar sister, the Wave, Hanne, sent a great force of water to pull me from the cave. Down a river and into the path of another Wolf. This Wolf, Penn.” Iver pointed to him, “He is Mitchum pack. Their fastest scout.”

Iver waited for the rumbling to die down. Penn began to get nervous, but Iver reassured him before continuing.

“I was starved, drowned, injured, and unconscious. There was iron in my blood.” Iver pointed to his head and shook it. “I do not remember these things but was told by my Pillar siblings who watched fate as it happened. This Wolf saved me, and he is now my mate. Penn Jorgensen now. He pulled the iron from my leg and took me to a feared cave to heal. He scrubbed out all the poison and rot from my leg instead of cutting it off. Penn knew I was the enemy and still provided aid. He cut his links with his pack, took medical supplies from them, and kept us hidden in a cursed cave where no Wolves dare go. For several days, he cleaned me, kept a fire, hunted, and prepared food and soup with healing roots. He never left me other than to provide.”

Iver nodded at that, and everyone turned to Penn. And Penn and Wolf relaxed, sensing their attitudes towards him changing. He knew, despite them being from another pack, every Wolf sensed the emotions and feelings he was experiencing on behalf of his mate.

“Penn packed and bound the wound so that it could heal. For those actions of providing aid to a critical Wolf, live or die, he is pardoned. This is our law. And the Bellums honor Wolf law.”

This brought on sounds of approval, and Penn focused on his hands as he took it all in. He swallowed hard at the realization that he didn’t come from a pack that followed Wolf law.

“Now the Steele pack, they are only two. Two make a pack, but they are important, and you need to understand their role. They are one human-turned and one half-Wolf-turned. Their Alpha is human—their landowner, Tristan Steele. The Steele pack is Thomas Mitchum and his mate, Ryan Mitchum. The cave, the Boar Lands, the entire battle, and where the bodies now lie are all on Steele pack land. Thomas and Ryan Mitchum both fought in the battle and are complicit, but there are factors regarding them I cannot convey to you. Factors that are Pillar business and not Bellum business. Still, I lay in this cave on their land, starving in a pile of my brother’s bodies for weeks. The Steele and Mitchum packs had plenty of time to return and burn their enemies or fill dirt in over the bodies so they could return to the earth. They did neither, none of it. They left the souls there to remain trapped and rot for eternity.”

Penn closed his eyes as Iver took a moment and then continued.

“I made my accusal, sent it to all Alphas, and called for this Tribunal. I ask for reparations and terms I think fair, which would end in no more death for our pack. Fader,” Iver said in conclusion.

Gundar repeated the reparations Iver had requested and the two violations he accused the Mitchums of. Gundar believed Iver’s requests were fair—land, mates, joined packs to increase their numbers and defend against the human scientists. Norway could no longer be their home. With such a significant loss of their unmated males, their survival would depend on the reparation Iver had requested. Gundar approved. Further, he approved of the mate, Penn, who Iver had chosen, and his pardon for his aid to an injured enemy Wolf. Penn would also now be considered Bellum because of his status.

“For all other reparations and terms, I approve. Council,” Gundar said.

Einar nodded and stood. “I agree with Iver’s reparations. I side with Gundar. I want to propose a law change. Any Wolf intentionally using a game trap on another Wolf shall suffer the same fate. All Wolf battles must be fought Wolf to Wolf, or we are no better than the humans who hunt us. Wolves who fight their own kind with manmade weapons and traps should have no honor amongst Wolves. Therefore, any unmated nonguilty Mitchum Wolf can become a Bellum so they will not wear the stench of dishonor or face death. This, too, I recommend we vote on. With all else, I agree and accept Iver’s mate and will welcome him into our pack.”

Penn wondered if he was still a Mitchum. Could a Wolf belong to two packs? He glanced at Iver, who covertly lowered his chin, indicating to Penn, Yes, you are the first.

The large group voted on the law change, and their scribe wrote out their proposal for the recommended new Wolf law.

The scribe stood and read, “Under Wolf law, all Wolves will fight as Wolves. Any Wolf using a human-made weapon or device for advantage, or fights in human form, will be subject to the same weapon with matching injury or death.”

They agreed unanimously, wholeheartedly, especially Iver. And despite his loyalty to his pack, Penn also agreed. They’d done what they had to in order to survive, but he felt relieved neither they nor any other Wolf would fight that way ever again.

Gundar stood. “We will not aid them in preparing the pyre or retrieving our brethren. We will ask them to leave so we can light the pyre and grieve our loss alone.” And there did not need to be a vote on the matter.

The pack talked, discussed, and asked questions. Iver answered what he could. He believed his warriors were all down there in one location, all forty-nine of them. Gundar dismissed everyone, and Iver motioned to Penn to join him. Penn made his way to the front and joined his mate, clasping his hand. Then, every member of Iver’s pack came and kissed Iver’s cheek, and he returned the gesture. There were no dry eyes and no smiles. Iver and Penn returned to the Bellum’s tent city to join the pack for more somber introductions and quiet meals.