Throwing the Gauntlet

Chapter 7

“Okay, good. Thrust, parry, parry, to your left, duck, jump.”

Frey bent his knees slightly and vaulted himself up just enough to get above her swung sword. She shoved him as his feet landed and he wobbled, trying to right himself before he fell.

“Landing is just as important as the execution,” Lain said.

Frey huffed and wiped a line of sweat from his forehead. “If you didn’t push me I’d land just fine.”

“Semantics. You think people are going to wait for you to get your feet?”

“I really don’t want to know what kind of fantasies you come up with in your spare time,” Frey muttered. “Too many of them involve my demise.”

“Not if you train properly,” Lain sang.

Frey rolled his eyes and gestured for her to continue.

“Come at me this time, try and land a hit.”

Frey tried hard but after another half hour he still hadn’t managed to land a single hit. He tensed and turned as the door to their training room opened. He straightened stiffly. “Father.”

“Freyr, how goes the training?”

Frey could already tell by the tense line on his father’s face that he didn’t give a s**t how Frey’s training was going.

“Good.”

“He’s improving every day,” Lain agreed.

Audun glanced at Lain. “Quite.” He walked up the line of the weapons on the wall, fingering a few of them as he passed. “Leave us.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Frey swallowed in panic as Lain gave him an apologetic look and bowed before leaving the room.

“Is there something you wanted? I wasn’t finished with my session.”

“Do not speak to me in that tone of voice,” Audun said, his voice quiet.

Frey clenched his teeth, and waited. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what this was about.

“Lady Clarissa is rather upset at the moment. I’m sure you can understand why.” Audun stopped, and turned to face Frey. “Do you? Understand why?”

Frey refused to answer. He knew for a fact that his father wouldn’t like his answer.

“Why do you insist on trying my patience, Freyr? You have a duty to your people, to your lands. The world looks to us and we must be strong. Any weaknesses will destroy you, eat away at you until you yourself open the door to let the enemy in.”

What enemy? Frey wanted to know. The only creatures on earth that had once stood any chance of facing the vampire were the wolves, and they were no longer a viable threat. Their entire race was in slavery to the vampire and those that weren’t were quickly found and made to obey. The one strung up in the cold room downstairs was a testament to that. What more did the vampire have to fear? They had no worthy enemies left.

“Lady Clarissa will be your wife and you will be respectful. Do you understand me?”

“Even to the point where her word is above mine?”

Audun narrowed his eyes. “If you think for one second you can sass me-”

“She interfered in a taming that has nothing to do with her and I put her in her place. What will the enemy think if I let my own wife run rampant over my affairs?”

Audun seemed to consider this, and continued his perusal of the weaponry.

“She went near my wolf, and the damage she caused has set my taming back months,” Frey lied. “If she does it again I will-”

“Do not give me ultimatums!” Audun roared. He flung a sword at Frey, and Frey was so stunned he didn’t have time to move. Luckily it sailed past his ear, only cutting a small section of his hair as it went past. “I make the rules here, not you Freyr. Do not upset her again, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Father,” Frey said, working hard to get his words out. He didn’t know why this marriage was so f*****g important and he didn’t care; he didn’t want anything to do with it. He had never been romantically interested in anyone, ever and she wasn’t about to change that. Just the thought of her made Frey shiver uncomfortably.

--

Frey burst into the wolf’s room, still holding his sword in his hand. He took one look at the wolf chained to the wall and his anger came pouring back.

Anger at the situation, anger at the hurt that Clarissa had inflicted, anger at his father and his stupid dictating ways. “I’m so sorry, should I bow and lick your feet?” he snarled at his imaginary father. He drove forward and thrust out, imagining it was his father his sword was sinking into. Maybe Clarissa too. He could get them in one swipe.

He growled and threw the sword onto the stone floor. He hated swords, he hated fighting, he hated his father.

When he turned to face the wolf again he noticed that there was some blood tracking down his chest and some of the cuts had opened up. He frowned as he moved closer, examining them. They should have healed by now. There should have been nothing left but smooth warm skin. He touched the spot beneath one of the cuts, just below his left n****e. The wolf flinched at the touch but otherwise did nothing. Frey was sure if he looked up the wolf would be staring at him with those strange golden liquid eyes.

“Why haven’t you healed?” he said. “These should be gone.” They were deep but in the grand scheme of things they were minor cuts and shouldn’t have lasted this long on someone as powerful as this being. In fact, now that he thought about, the wolf looked weaker than usual. Had there been something on Clarissa’s whip? Something poisonous? By the fang he wanted to kill her.

His hand clenched into a fist, still resting on the wolf’s warm chest. He didn’t realise that his head was moving forward to rest there as well until the wolf began to growl. Frey’s head jolted up and he moved back a step. “I’m sorry-I don’t-I’m sorry,” he stuttered. What the hell was wrong with him? Looking for comfort in a wolf?

“Do you think to bait me? To try and move me with your petty display?”

It took Frey’s brain a moment to connect, to realise that the wolf was talking to him. Maybe talking was the wrong word; it seemed more a mockery than speech. But the voice was deep and baritone and sent a shiver down Frey’s spine. “I-you?”

“What’s the matter, wolf got your tongue?” the wolf taunted.

Frey narrowed his eyes. What the hell had he done to deserve that kind of attitude? “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not the High King.”

“Not yet. But you reek of him. I know who you are, Freyr Deskardov.”

Frey took a step back. “How do you know who I am?” A wolf knew his name?

“Never underestimate the monster that sleeps under your bed.”

Frey swallowed. “Do you mean the one chained to the wall?”

The wolf threw his head back and laughed but the sound was anything but pleasant. It sank deep into Frey’s bones and for the first time in this wolf’s company, he was afraid. The wolf being chained to the wall didn’t make him any less intimidating. Who the hell had his father given to him?

“For too long have you destroyed the world around you, Deskardov. For too long have you let the mice play. Your precious reign of terror is coming to an end.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frey said. There was no reign of terror. The vampires ruled with an iron fist, yes, but not one without mercy. Their servants were given everything they ever wanted, as long as they obeyed. What more did they want?

“There’s a war coming. And it will end when every vampire is in pieces on the ground. It will end when we bathe in your blood and howl to the unchained moon.”

Frey took a step back, trying not to trip over his own feet. “You’re lying.” There was no war coming. No one had the power to rise up against the vampire. Not anymore.

Frey fled, the unnerving laughter of the wolf following in his wake.

--

Lain found him hours later, lying sideways across his large bed. He was staring at the ceiling, full of thoughts and yet thinking nothing.

Lain crawled onto the bed and sat cross legged. “I heard what happened with Clarissa.”

Frey merely grunted.

“Is your wolf okay?”

That made Frey turn to look at her. “Why would you care if my wolf was okay?”

“I don’t,” Lain swiftly returned. She lay down next to Frey but propped her head up by placing her chin in her palm. “But you seem to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He seemed to be repeating that sentence. Forever repeating it. And why not? It was the truth. He never knew what people were talking about. He had never bothered to learn more than what was required of him. And until now what had been required of him had been very little. Listen when spoken to, but do not speak. Watch carefully, but do not speak. That was what his father had always expected of him.

“Do you think,” Lain said carefully, “that perhaps you have grown attached to your charge?”

“You say charge as if he was learning from me.” He chose to ignore the part about him being attached. It was absurd.

“Isn’t he?”

Frey snorted. “He would no sooner listen to me than he would hang up being a wolf and become a vampire himself.”

“Your father won’t like it if you don’t have him tamed in time.”

Frey said nothing, but he knew she was right. He wondered what his consequence would be then. Maybe his father would chain him next.

“I’ve seen them being tamed,” Lain said. “Sometimes more than words are necessary, for the ones who are harder to control.”

Frey sat up, a frown marring his face. “What do you mean?”

“Persuasion does sometimes have to come from a stern hand. Maybe he would respond better to brute force?”

Frey frowned. He tried to turn the thought over in his mind but it just made him cringe. He didn’t want to torture anyone. He sighed heavily and flopped down onto his back.

Lain took hold of his hand. “Lain, I understand your thoughts. I do. You aren’t like them, I know you aren’t. But you must do this. I could not bear seeing you hurt.”

“I’m his only heir,” Frey said. “He would never do anything to me.”

--

Frey couldn’t help but search out the wolf’s eyes as soon as he entered the room.

The wolf glanced at the items he carried, and sneered at him.

Frey dropped them near the wolf, trying not to think about them. He had taken Lain’s advice and brought with him a whip, a small dagger, a baton and some kind of spiky implement. Frey had no idea what the spiky implement did, and just looking at it made him feel a bit queasy, but he had picked it up anyway.

“We’re going to play a game today,” Frey said, sounding bolder than he felt. “I’m afraid you’re probably not going to like it very much.”

The wolf said nothing, his eyes not straying back to the items on the floor.

“Silent treatment again?” Frey said.

“Oh, I have all sorts of things I could say to you,” the wolf said, making Frey jump a little. “I’m afraid you probably wouldn’t like them very much.”

Frey narrowed his eyes. Words like that would make Frey seem like nothing but a smartass. The wolf made them sound menacing, like a promise.

“Why are you being like this?” Frey said. He crossed his arms. “I have been nothing but kind to you. I fed you, I cleaned your wounds, I-”

“You have me chained to a wall, vampire. You enslave my kind. You slaughter and defile because it amuses you. Whatever kindness you think you’ve shown me, is nothing but a mindfuck you enact to make yourself seem important. Show me your toys and do your worst.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” They weren’t-they didn’t-subjects were not mistreated. As long as they obeyed they were free to do their own bidding.

“Don’t I?” The wolf raised a single eyebrow.

Frey’s hands clenched at his sides. They were not savages, not like the wolves, they were vampire. They ruled above all, because they were superior, not because they were cruel. “You think we do this,” Frey said, flinging his hand at the chains, “because we like it? We do it because you do not bend as you should!”

“As we should? Who are you to decide our fates?”

“We are vampire.”

“You are a fool.”

Frey growled low in his throat, his fangs lengthening as his anger shook him to the core. He swiftly moved forward, pulling a key from his pockets. “We are superior because we are better than you,” he said, his voice fierce. “We do not need chains to show you who is the higher power!” He unchained the wolf and moved back. “Kneel, as you should!”

“You are a fool,” the wolf said.

Frey had a moment of absolute fear, as he realised his colossal error. But it was too late. The wolf moved fast, faster than Frey thought possible. One moment he was against the wall, the next he had Frey pressed against it, his large hands wrapped around Frey’s throat, lifting him inches above the floor.

Frey struggled, trying to pry those hands from him. But they were stronger than he could ever hope to be. How was the wolf still so strong after weeks of no food? With blood still dripping from his open wounds that refused to heal?

The wolf moved closer, close enough that Frey could feel the breath across his face.

“You are not the higher power, Freyr Deskardov. You are not even in the same league. Tonight it is your blood that will be spilled.”