A Wizard's War

A soft drizzle of rain covered everything with a dripping sheen and gray clouds moved unhurriedly overhead. Simon was grateful for the rain, he’d not seen any in ages and aside from the discomfort from his wet clothing it was a welcome sight. The dreary sky backlit the small community as it sat perched atop a large drop on the far side. The houses nearest the cliff were large and ominous in the overcast afternoon.

“Graymere Falls,” Connor whispered as if contemplating what they would find there.

The journey to Graymere had been uneventful except for the constant call of wolves in the night. Simon had worked with Connor and as their bond grew so did Connor’s connection with his inner wolf. When the others called for him, he was able to resist and remain human if he so chose. Of course, laying with Simon and having intense sex was useful at keeping the wolfish desires satisfied. Simon was never opposed to that idea and Yidian always benefited as well. During the days, Simon had shared his recent tragedies and the events leading to the discovery of his new power. While he referenced Bronn as the reason for his departure from Westwood, he was not yet ready to share his part in the man’s death.

As they crossed the border into the town, Simon felt a tingle along his spine. There was something unsettling about the very earth they were walking upon.

“You sense it,” Yidian spoke inside, “Something has been rooted to this land for a long time.”

“Can you sense the source?” Simon thought.

“Not yet.”

“Everything alright?” Connor asked.

“This place just feels… wrong,” Simon replied.

“I don’t know if it’s the weather, but it does give me the creeps.”

“It’s more than that,” Simon looked toward the houses ahead in dismay.

They continued onward and found there were only twelve homes established in Graymere, a stable, and a tavern with an inn on the second floor. They approached the tavern to get in out of the damp and perhaps find a physical space to sleep for the night. Camping under the stars was charming for a time, but eventually the ground was too hard and the bug bites too frequent. As the doors swung inward the tavern was dim and cobwebs were present in every corner. Working by a single lantern the barkeep was wiping out a wooden mug and the single patron, an old man with gray hair and vacant eyes, turned to look at the newcomers.

The barkeep was a tall, middle-aged man with broad shoulders but gangly looking appendages. He had blue eyes and carefully slicked-back, shoulder-length, brown hair. The barkeep appraised the two men with surprise and then alarm when he didn’t recognize them.

“You’re from out of town!” the barkeep exclaimed excitedly, “Suppose you be lookin’ for a room?”

“That would be nice,” Simon agreed as he approached the bar.

“You boys lost,” the old man at the bar growled as he leered at them with disgust.

“No,” Connor took up a place next to Simon, “We’ve traveled a way to get here.”

“You came a lookin’ for Graymere Falls?” the man asked incredulously.

“Sure they wanted to see the bluffs and the falls!” the barkeep stuck another drink in front of the old man, “That’s the only reason I ever get visitors. This is my place, folks call me Siggi and this here old grump is Colby. Can we get you anything to drink?”

“Mead?” Simon asked, remembering Connor’s love of the honeyed drink.

“Make that two,” Connor smiled.

“Mead…hmmm” Siggi went to the back and found a cask, “I still got a new cask completely untapped.”

“Don’t be tapping no cask on their accord,” Colby scowled, “You’ll not be servin’ these two and they’ll not be stayin’ here neither.”

“We have some coin,” Connor offered, “We are regular paying customers.”

“I know whatcha are!!” Colby bristled and his eyebrows practically shot up off his forehead, “And I’ll not be havin’ ya eat the best damn bar tender this town has seen in years.”

“You don’t mean…?” Siggi was standing bolt upright and alarmed, “But I thought they were only here in Graymere?”

“’Pears you’re wrong,” Colby stated plainly.

“You must be seeking the big mansion,” Siggi swallowed, suddenly nervous.

“This guy is harmless,” Simon poked at Connor playfully, “We’ve been traveling together, and I’m perfectly fine!”

“The old Wendler place,” Colby grunted and smirked at Connor’s sudden surprise at the mention of the family name, “that’s where you need to be gettin’.”

“Wendler?” Connor repeated his own last name as if it suddenly tasted strange on his tongue.

“That’s right,” Colby sat back smugly in his chair, “Biggest mansion on the bluff, impossible to miss. You best run along now.”

“I just remembered,” Siggi sidled up to the bar and puffed out his chest, “We have no vacancies. Sorry, if there was some confusion.”

“What are you all so afraid of?” Simon asked pointedly, “What’s wrong with this town?”

“Come on,” Connor turned toward the door, “I can tell where we are not wanted.”

Simon gave the two men one last scathing look and then followed Connor out of the tavern. Back out in the dreary rain, they looked toward the bluff and saw the large house in question, towering over the rest of the town. It was an ominous structure with a large multi-layered roof and the highest ridge was capped on each end with an ornamental wing shape that looked like horns against the backdrop of the gray sky.

“You think my family originated here?” Connor considered aloud and Simon knew it was a question he was asking himself more than Simon.

“They appear to be familiar with werewolves here too,” Simon was feeling anxious, “What are we getting ourselves into?”

“I don’t know,” Connor looked at Simon seriously, “but it seems we are on the right track.”

“To the mansion then?”

“To the mansion,” Connor agreed uneasily.

Where the road ended in a large loop there was a path that led up to the large mansion on the bluff. At the entrance to the path was an arched trellis covered over with vines and an old wooden sign engraved with the name Wendler.

“I never knew my father was from this town,” Connor mused, “He never spoke of his childhood really.”

“You think he grew up in this mansion?” Simon looked at the sinister house, “Or maybe the last name is a coincidence.”

“It’s no coincidence,” Connor stated without hesitation.

Connor suddenly took up the lead and began walking up the path to the front door. He rapped on the door with his fist and Simon started when it opened immediately. As the door swung inward, a woman with a long face and pointed chin stuck her head out while wrinkling her short, hooked nose in distaste.

“Good afternoon,” Connor nodded deeply in what was almost an awkward bow.

“You came straight to the house,” the woman sniffed impartially, “You must be quite brave or just stupid.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor frowned, “I don’t follow.”

“We expected you,” the lady explained, “just figured you’d poke around the town more to get the lay of the land. Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Madame Beech and I am the live-in maid. Well, my list of odd jobs is actually quite numerous.”

“Is the master of the house still a Wendler?” Connor asked.

“Indeed, he is,” Madame Beech nodded, “Come, I will show you to the parlor where he is waiting.”

Once inside the front door, they were in an expansive front hall with high ceilings. The floors were marble and ornately scrawled posts lined the grand stairway to the second-floor landing. In the chandelier overhead were many burning candles reflecting light off the crystals hanging from the outer edges. The entire scene was enchanting and, above all else, expensive. They followed Madame Beech down the right side of the long hall, they stepped between large marble pillars that supported the second floor and into a room that was warm and comfortable after the dreary rain. A fire crackled in the hearth and several comfortable chairs occupied the cozy space. Upon a throne-like chair, with ornate scrollwork across the back and armrests, sat a gray-haired man holding a saucer in one hand and sipping from a cup in the other.

“Master Wendler, I present to you…” Madame Beech held out a hand toward Connor.

“Connor…” He spoke hesitantly

“And I’m Simon.”

The man turned his face and on the right side the fireplace cast haunting shadows across a fresh scar on the man’s cheek. He narrowed his eyes at Simon and sniffed with distaste.

“I remember you,” the older man turned back to face the fire again.

“You’re the white wolf,” Simon realized aloud. No one acknowledged he even spoke as Connor stared at the man and the man stared into the fire.

“Please,” Madame Beech gestured to the available seating near the fire, “warm yourselves and your wet clothes. I will pour you some tea.”

Simon sat as requested and Connor vacantly followed suit. As Connor sat nearest to the man he also sniffed the air with obvious displeasure.

“You are not my father…” Connor finally uttered uncertainly.

“What gave it away?” the man suddenly broke into a broad grin full of uneven and unusually sharp teeth.

“The wolf,” Connor looked into the fire in thought, “I’m starting to differentiate things, and in my memory, I knew my father’s scent. I’m just starting to realize how different you are, but your face… it’s identical.”

“We were twins,” the man responded, “I am your uncle, Malachi Wendler, and this is my home.”

“Do you know what became of my father?” Connor asked.

“Hard to say where he ran off to,” Malachi shifted uncomfortably, “But denying who we are can have violent and painful consequences. Probably why he buried himself in drink.”

“So how did you find me?” Connor asked.

“We hunt in Belamere’s Crossing from time to time,” Malachi faced Connor, “Imagine my surprise when I sensed an unawakened pup that I never knew existed.”

Simon and Connor accepted cups as Madame Beech had returned with their tea. They all sipped awkwardly in silence for a moment. Simon fought an urgent tightness in his chest that was prompting him to run, flee, get out!

“This place is unnatural,” Yidian whispered inside, “Blessed or cursed, the very earth was once touched by the gods.”

“I don’t understand what brought about my change?” Connor wondered, “It was as if you triggered it that night.”

“At the bar,” Malachi revealed, “we slipped a few drops of human blood into your drink.”

“Why would you do that?” Simon suddenly yelled completely appalled by this.

“It is the fastest way to trigger the change,” Malachi continued, “we had been watching you and I deduced exactly who you were. It was time for family to reunite and your training as a wolf to begin. I see you’ve come very far already.”

“But we were mortified to see you lay with a human man,” a woman suddenly spoke from the doorway. She wore a long black dress that was very form fitting, and she had her long brown hair tied back with a black ribbon.

“You are the she-wolf,” Connor spoke as if to explain to Simon more than anyone else, “during our hunts together.”

“My daughter,” Malachi introduced, “Constance. I’ve never seen anyone turn down a bitch in heat, but you refused my daughter’s invitation.”

“Several times,” Constance grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Connor flushed with embarrassment, “but wouldn’t we be cousins?”

“That matters very little to wolves,” Constance remarked as she poured herself a glass of some type of amber liquor, “Besides the Wendler’s tend to be alphas, our pups would be extraordinary.”

“Perhaps we should do with a history lesson,” Malachi suddenly stood his knee audibly popping and he moved slowly toward a large chest in the corner. Unclasping the lid, he lifted it open and pulled a long metal chain from the chest and from it dangled a shining metal collar.

“What manner of torture is that?” Simon asked unsettled.

“Tools of our ancestors,” Malachi smiled at them, “The Wendler’s were poor at one time, and they lived under the oppressive thumb of the wealthy here in Graymere Falls. The wealthy ruled this town because they could easily transform into wolves by night and terrorize the citizens if they wanted. So, there was an unspoken hierarchy and the underprivileged fell in line. Until the Wendler’s had enough, and we began to hunt the wolves. We rallied the town and drove them to the brink of extinction.”

“Our family were werewolf hunters?” Connor seemed confused.

“Indeed, we were,” Malachi let the collar fall back into the chest with a loud clang, “When the last of the wolves were dealt with and we took their homes and lands for ourselves something terrible happened upon the next full moon. All the families that had taken homes on the bluff became the very thing they had hunted. Half the town was slaughtered and ravaged in a single night by the new wolves rampaging the city. Much talk was taken about killing themselves to end the scourge, but it was clear the ground itself was cursed. More would take their place. So, we embraced who we were and agreed to never harm another citizen of Graymere.”

“So, you hunt in Belamere’s Crossing?” Connor snorted, “Is that really any better?”

“Not just there, but yes,” Malachi stooped and sat back in his chair, “For many years they tried to suppress the wolf, but as I said that has dangerous consequences. The beast grows unruly and wild if left unexpressed. We need to hunt and we have to feed.”

“So why didn’t you explain all this sooner?” Connor was confused, “Why pretend to be my father when we first met?”

“I thought it would be quicker to form a bond,” Malachi explained, “but you refused to leave Belamere’s Crossing. At dawn you would always return to your home instinctively. You’ve been too long without a pack, and you’ve become a lone wolf.”

“We kept trying,” Constance sighed as she took a long drink.

“We thought we lost you when we were attacked by this human,” Malachi gestured unamused toward Simon, “You were not answering our call any longer, but imagine our surprise when we saw you traveling toward Graymere Falls all on your own.”

“What are you anyway?” Constance looked pointedly at Simon as she stumbled drunkenly closer.

“I’m a warlock,” Simon stated proudly.

“A demon’s bitch?” Constance suddenly laughed loudly until it became a cackle.

“I told you wizards were extremely rare,” Malachi gloated briefly to his daughter as they settled some previous argument, “but still that was some powerful magic you unleashed that night in the woods.”

“He’s helped me a lot,” Connor frowned with distaste at his laughing cousin, “We have shared something…”

“Oh, we saw that,” Constance laughed harder, “I suppose I’d feel close to the one I’m sticking it to, as well!”

“Can we fry her?” Yidian contemplated. Simon watched as Connor sat uncomfortably next to him, his face darkening to a crimson hue.

“That’s enough, Constance!” Malachi barked and the laughing immediately ceased. He then directed his attention back to Connor pleading, “We just want you to be careful. Warlocks are notorious for their seductive behavior. Even I sense something very intoxicating about this young man of yours.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Simon stated indignantly.

“Feel free to leave,” Constance mocked, “this should be a family matter anyway.”

“Simon isn’t going anywhere,” Connor growled at her, “And I appreciate if you show my new friend a little more respect. He has shown true caring, not forcing human blood upon me and pretending to be my absent father.”

“You make a fair point,” Malachi hung his head in apology, but both Simon and Yidian sensed an underlying insincerity to the man’s gesture.

“This is a lot to take in,” Connor stated.

“Some of the servants are preparing you a room,” Malachi smiled warmly at his nephew, “why don’t you stay here with your friend and get to know us. The rest of our pack will be coming for supper this evening and you can meet them too.”

“I can show you your room,” Constance offered, “We will pass mine on the way in case you want to stop by later? See what real animals can do…”

Simon noticed Connor tense and his fists clench. Simon placed a reassuring hand on the big man’s shoulders. Together they got up and followed the obnoxious Constance to their room.

Outside the overcast sky continued to darken toward nightfall, but inside Connor was washing himself in a small basin with warm water and Simon, who had just finished, was dressing in dry clothes. They had spoken little, wanting to get out of their wet clothes and freshen up, but Connor also sensed that Simon was giving him time to think. There was much to think about. Connor was happy to find others that were like him, but in the pit of his stomach he distrusted his uncle and especially Constance.

Simon’s stomach made another mournful grumble and he doubled over in pain.

“Another one?” Connor asked.

“Something didn’t agree with me,” Simon responded, “I may lie down a moment.”

After Connor finished washing and dried himself sufficiently, he allowed himself to air dry and walked naked to the bed where Simon was laying. Gently, Connor sat on the bed next to him and stroked Simon’s soft sandy-brown hair. Simon’s forehead felt warm to the touch and his stomach gurgled again in distress. Simon responded to the touch, curling into a fetal position to better clutch his stomach, and resting his head on Connor’s naked leg.

“It’s strange,” Connor whispered, “I barely know you, but I feel like you’re the only real person in this world.”

“What does that even mean?” Simon smiled embarrassed by the comment.

“I don’t really know…”

They both chuckled until suddenly Simon gripped his stomach again in another spasm of pain. As if to echo the internal turmoil, thunder rolled outside and rattled the room’s glass pane.

“You are burning up,” Connor told Simon, “Something is not right. Can you use magic maybe?”

“I just feel so weak all of a sudden,” Simon whispered, “maybe some privacy, so I may use the chamber pot.”

Connor helped Simon to the cramped closet-like space that adjoined their room to another. The far door was closed, and Connor made sure the squat stool was ready for Simon to use before leaving him alone. Connor paced outside the door as his enhanced hearing could hear Simon grunting and straining. As Connor looked across the room, his vision seemed to blur and double as if he were suddenly intoxicated. He stumbled drunkenly over a rug on the floor and barked his shin hard against the bed.

“Gods damn it!” he cursed as he clutched his leg. When he tried to stand again his head felt suddenly very light. Instinctively, he sat back onto the bed. After the spell had passed, Connor dressed himself and was coming to check on Simon when the door opened on its own. Simon wavered there looking quite pale.

“I feel a bit better,” Simon tried to smile but he immediately doubled over and vomited on the floor. The force of the sick and the weakness in his legs made him fall to his knees and continue to vomit more.

“We need help,” Connor moved to the door to the room and his vision again felt uncertain and his head was pounding.

“The tea,” Connor suddenly thought, but the realization was too late. The door to the room opened and a smiling Constance was there to greet him.

“You are not looking to good, my love,” she batted her eyes at him.

“What did you do to us?” Connor growled.

“Wolfsbane,” Constance answered as she observed her elongating nails, “mixed in your tea. It will weaken you, but you can survive when you shift into a wolf. Your friend on the other hand…”

Constance looked unsympathetically at Simon who had collapsed on the floor in his own vomit, “…he’s not long for this world.”

Connor made a lunging grasp at his infuriating cousin, but she deftly stepped out of the way and laughed as Connor fell forward onto the ground. Connor could already feel his features shifting and his bones rearranging beneath his skin. The rage of this betrayal was only making it easier to unleash the beast inside. Connor would shift and then he would sink his teeth into the meaty flesh of his psychotic cousin’s neck. As he shifted, Connor realized too late that Constance had drawn closer to him. As his wolfish features completed their transition, she slipped a metal band around his neck and snapped it shut.

The silver collar seared his flesh and made the wolfs eyes bulge in pain. Constance held a length of chain in her hands, and she gingerly yanked on the collar, “Come, boy!”

She cackled gratingly, but Connor had no choice but to comply. The wolfsbane and now the searing pain in his neck made him weak and pathetic. He whimpered as she dragged him along through the house.

They soon emerged into a dining room where Malachi was seated at the head of the long table. They had six guests that sat three on each side. An older woman was seated closest to Malachi, and she lazily rested her hand on his leg under the table. To her right were two middle-aged, very broad-shouldered, burly men. They looked identical with jet-black hair, but one had grown a long full beard while the other only sported stubble. On the other side of Malachi was a very frail looking woman, but she was not significantly aged, her body just looked malnourished. To her left sat a rail thin youth and a stunning blonde woman in a tight-fitting red dress.

“Our guest of honor,” Malachi smiled broadly as Constance led Connor into the room.

“Was this really necessary?” the frail woman questioned, “parading him around like that. It’s humiliating.”

“I think it teaches him a valuable lesson,” the older woman smiled as she rubbed Malachi’s leg beneath the table, “shows him who is in charge around here.”

“Of course, you’d think that,” the frail woman rolled her eyes and then took a drink from the goblet before her.

“Ladies,” Malachi smiled, “let’s be cordial.”

Malachi took the hand that was massaging his lap and brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. The older woman gave Malachi a bashful smile as they shared a flirtatious look. He then released the hand as he stood to walk around the table. Malachi roughly grabbed at Connor’s ears and head, turning him this way and that and even taking a brief sniff around his backside.

“Such a strong specimen,” Malachi stated satisfied, “I hope he comes around to our side. We need fresh Wendler stock to rejuvenate our ranks.”

“He won’t be able to resist me next time, Daddy,” Constance smiled, and Malachi hooked a strand of hair behind her ear affectionately.

“I know, my dear daughter.”

“I am willing to be your mate, if it doesn’t work out,” sniffled the thin boy.

“Do shut up, Wilhelm,” the radiant blonde commanded as she took a dainty bite of some bloody red meat from her plate.

“You are looking stronger,” Malachi rested his hands on the back of the blonde woman’s chair, “You remind me of your mother when we first met.”

“Human flesh has that tendency,” the woman responded as she refused to react to Malachi’s hovering presence behind her chair and continued to cut another small bite and eat it.

“Soon we will hunt together,” the bearded, burly man grunted, “while Constance bears her pups.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” the woman in red uttered sarcastically.

“Constance, get our guest some food, please,” Malachi instructed as he returned to his own chair. Constance yanked on Connor’s chain and took him out of the dining room and away from the continued cut-throat conversation. It was clear most of the people at that table disagreed about something, and Malachi kept them in check.

In the kitchens, Connor’s senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of blood. It arose from the large butcher block at the center of the room, which Connor was not tall enough to see in his wolf form. Constance hooked his length of chain to a clasp on a side wall and then she grabbed a knife and began to hack at the butcher block. She returned with a large chunk of raw meat and laid it before Connor.

Connor hesitantly smelled the meat, and his stomach was grumbling with intense interest. In his mind he wanted to refuse the offering, but the wolf immediately began tearing into the flesh and tasting the hot fresh blood on his tongue. Constance sat on the floor next to him and watched him eat ravenously.

“You see,” she smiled, “I can be sweet.”

Connor finished eating and licked every drop from his chops before looking back up at the butcher block. Constance got up and brought him some more of the delicious meat. As he was engrossed with the food, Constance began stroking his fur and at first, he growled. But the food was so alluring, he let her do as she pleased. Then her hand was sliding under him and grasped the cock firmly before jerking him off. The red shaft emerged, and the knot swelled against Connor’s will, and he stepped sideways away from her, his jaws taking a warning snap in her direction. He growled low in his throat.

“I’ll have you one way or another,” Constance grumbled back, “One way can be enjoyable, the other option, less so.”

Connor just continued to growl at her, but he really wanted to finish that meat he had left lying on the floor…

Simon was awake, but it was so dark and the floor so cold. He could still faintly smell the stench of his sick down the front of him. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. He wasn’t moving, no, he couldn’t move! He scanned himself, fingers, toes, top to bottom, nothing would respond. His breathing was shallow and ragged, barely even breathing at all. Aware, but paralyzed, like some waking nightmare.

“You have been poisoned,” Yidian spoke.

“You don’t sound too worried,” Simon thought.

“If you die and your soul is not strong enough to survive. Your body will belong to me.”

“No one mentioned that before,” Simon was exasperated.

“It’s never come up.”

“So, you probably want me to die,” Simon’s mind was racing, fearful. He wasn’t ready to die.

“Want is a strong word,” Yidian considered honestly, “I neither care if you live or die. I will continue regardless. However, I would miss you for a time. Your strength and your resolve are what drew me to you in the first place. I would not agree to join with just any mortal.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Well,” Yidian mused, “It may be the last chance to say them.”

“I really don’t want to go,” Simon pleaded, and he wondered if he was feeling a real tear sliding down the side of his face or imagined the feeling from previous experience.

“Don’t be afraid,” Yidian spoke soothingly, “The Eternal Realm is not so bad. I’ve lived there most of my life.”

“Will there be pain?” Simon wondered.

“That depends on the weight of your guilt.”

Simon lay remembering the horrifying moment when he returned to consciousness standing over Bronn’s lifeless corpse. The panic had clutched his chest and had burst up and out like a silent scream. Kissing Amos, feeling Connor inside of him, his mother’s smile, his father’s approval. None of the pleasant memories came flashing back, just this one crucial mistake.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon wept, and tears truly did fall from his immobile face as his breathing slowly stopped.

“That’s it,” Yidian whispered, “Sleep now. And don’t worry… I’m going wolf hunting.”