Page 18 of Wolf Trap

Before Lycaon could speak, I interjected, “Dolph, only one more? I thought there were three Oubliettes?”

As I said the word Oubliette, the shifters giggled.

Dolph’s voice cut through their chuckling. “The other prisoner died of starvation. We found him, like Marrock, in a hole in the castle floor, unable to move. Unable to lie down, to sit. His corpse was emaciated. His mouth,” he sneered, looking at Lycaon’s new friends, “he died screaming in terror. This one here is Adam. He and Marrock are the lucky ones. I suggest we try to leave. Now.”

A cocky werewolf behind me, his accent sounded thick, like him. “Try? We’re walking out of here now. Try to stop us!”

Dolph widened his eyes, staring behind me, and in that split second, I saw the fear in them.

The stench of death washed over me. A low growl bellowed through me, and for a moment I froze, too afraid to move, toturn and look behind. My breathing hitched. Twisting around, my hand slipped, trying to grab my athame. Right there, behind me, I looked into the eyes of death, staring right through to my soul.

But not just one. Five werewolves, towering up, lurched forwards, crouching, eyeing us as meat.

Eyes like coals, burning black-red and their muzzles drawn back, revealing razor sharp canines.

Before I could blink, the werewolves lashed out and several shifters lay dead, mutilated.

Blood sprayed on their fur. Edging back slowly at first, then I ran, stumbled to the door, trying to get to the portal, but as I did, five warriors burst through it.

The five swordsmen dressed in black, their masks mirrored back my fear. Their swords sang as they unsheathed them.

Screaming, a mixture of terror and anger, the shifters fought desperately. Some morphed somewhere between man and wolf, their claws flaying, trying to tear at the werewolves. But the werewolves kept going, cutting down anyone who crossed their path.

Lycaon started to morph, part-man, part wolf, wielding his spiked club. As for Dolph and his cleaver, I winced, looking away as he grunted and the wailing of a werewolf stung my ears.

I prefer to fight with magic!

Marrock’s face was white with sweat as he watched, slightly crouched, still weak from his capture. God knows how long he’d been locked away.

I screamed as a werewolf came crashing towards Lycaon. He blocked the brunt of its claws with the arm of his club, but it still sliced him. Then Lycaon grabbed the beast’s wrist, pushing into him. Lycaon’s mouth was a fusion of wolf and man. His jaws opened as he bit down on the werewolf’s neck.

The werewolf crumpled instantly, but Lycaon…

Staggering back, Lycaon convulsed violently.

Around him, shifters dodged the massive claws, thumping, kicking, one jumping on the back of a werewolf and trying to pull its head away from its neck.

Others ran screaming from the swordsmen.

I froze beside the weakened Marrock and the other prisoner who cowered, frail and bent, our backs to the wall beside the door which held our freedom. I wanted to rush to Lycaon to help him.

Despite being on the brink of death, the werewolf that Lycaon had bitten still attempted to grab him. It was trying to take Lycaon with him, legs bending, trying to grapple him to the ground.

With a violent rasp, Lycaon suddenly stopped and staggered back, clutching his chest.

Copper light seemed to glow from within him, blazing.

Covering my eyes from the illumination, I heard a clanking and the scurrying of footsteps.

I could smell the fear on the swordsmen as I peeked through my hand and saw them drop their swords and flee. Lycaon’s appearance left the shifters speechless, their eyes fixated on him. The two remaining werewolves crouched and inched backwards.

Swallowing hard, I muttered to Marrock, “They’re submitting to him. The ensnared werewolves are backing down…”

Lycaon wobbled, then strengthened his stance. He let out a thunderous roar, which echoed through the walls. The copper light radiated from him, then burst like a star exploding. Panting, hands on his legs before standing tall, his chest puffed out. Eyeing the surrounding shifters, his voice, almost as deep as Dolph’s, now boomed around us.

“Get the others, go through that room and follow Marrock to Savernake wood. It’s time we left. It’s time we take back our freedom.”

“Not so fast!” Lycaon grabbed Dolph’s arm and turned to Marrock. “Go to Savernake. I’ll meet with you shortly. Dolph, take over until Marrock is well enough.”

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