The Destruction of the Vlkolak Ch. 05

Leona shifted and stood close to the Alpha, her hand on his shoulder. She would lend him what strength she had left.

Zsigmond and Istvan lifted their noses to the air and caught the scent of the stranger. "Istvan and I will kill him, father."

Ártur slowly turned and looked at his two sons. He knew their brothers were already on their way to meet them. He nodded his head and put an arm around Leona who sobbed quietly.

Orsolya made her way to the top, ignoring Guillame's pleas for her to stop. The red panther looked down and roared in pain. She looked for a way to reach her sister and saw a small narrow path that led down to the canyon floor.

"Orsolya, no!" Guillame tried to stop her but couldn't reach her in time. There was no way for him to stop her now. All he could do was keep close to her. The path was treacherous, and Guillame held his breath as he watched his precious mate make her way to the canyon floor. "Please love, be careful. This trail is too steep to move quickly." But she ignored him and did not slow her pace.

They were almost to the bottom when Orsolya's back foot slid off the path. She used her claws to try to hold herself on the trail. Guillame leapt forward and shifted, trying to take hold of some part of her to keep her on the path but her fur slipped through his fingers.

"No! Orsolyaaa!" Guillame cried out and ran down the remainder of the path as he watched his mate tumble down the final meters to the ground. He ran blindly to her and knelt next to her still form. He could see her breathing. He stroked her face and pleaded with her to wake. "My love, please, don't leave me."

The red panther lay motionless for several long moments. Her long tail begin to twitch, then her whiskers. Her head came up off the ground and rubbed against her mate's hand. She shifted and lay there regaining her strength for a few more minutes. But she had to see her sister.

"Orsolya, wait, I need to be sure you are alright." Guillame tried to keep her from sitting up, but the shake of her head told him in no uncertain terms that she would not be kept from her task. He helped her to stand on weak legs and walk to the still form of her sister.

Orsolya fell to her knees, sobbing. She reached out and carefully stroked her sister's silky black fur. She smelled the blood and semen from her sister's body. She looked up at her father and grandmother watching from above. She felt their pain, and the rage from her brothers as they hunted. She reached out for Guillame's hand and held it tightly, pulling him down to sit with her. He wrapped his arms around her as she cried for her sister, cried for the emptiness in her heart that her sister used to fill.

Guillame held Orsolya, his chin resting on the top of her head. He knew there was nothing he could do or say to make it better. All he could do was hold her as she cried. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Ártur and Leona making their way carefully down the path.

Ártur knelt next to Orsolya as he looked at his beautiful Zsálya. He stroked her head while tears flowed down his cheeks. He looked up at the sky. "Allegria, please look after our daughter." He slowly reached for the little black wolf and gently took her into his arms. He stood and turned, stopping for just a moment in front of Leona, who tenderly kissed her granddaughter one last time. The Alpha then carefully made his way back up the path towards their home. Leona followed close behind.

Orsolya was grateful to have Guillame's strength to lean on or she didn't think she'd be able to continue living. He helped her to stand, his strong arm around her waist. She thought she'd be fine in a few minutes, but suddenly had no strength left and collapsed at her mate's side.

"Orsolya!" Guillame swept her up in his arms and held her to his chest. She was so weak she could barely open her eyes. "Orsolya." He whispered it in her ear and felt relief when she smiled and brought a hand to his cheek.

"My wonderful big brown wolf. What would I do without you?" Her smile abruptly turned to a grimace as pain gripped her. She grabbed at her stomach. "No, it is too soon, too soon." She began to cry anew. Their cubs; there was something wrong. It was her fault. She should have listened to Guillame's warnings.

It took Guillame a moment to grasp what Orsolya was talking about. But when he realized what she was saying, he held her tighter and began to run up the trail. He ran past Ártur and Leona, not giving any indication of what had happened.

Leona gasped when she saw the blood between Orsolya's legs. No, no, it wasn't fair. To lose a granddaughter and great grandchildren in one day, due to one evil were. It wasn't right. And it should be avenged. She listened for her grandsons. Had they found the wolf that dared to bring her family to harm? Her entire body shook with grief.

"We lost him at the river. I've sent wolves each direction but so far we have not picked up his scent." Zsigmond was furious. His sister's killer had escaped them. If it were up to him he would send scouts to all corners of the earth to search him out and kill him.

"No, Zsigmond. We need you here. It is too late for Zsálya. Revenge will do no good if we do not save our cubs. That must be our first concern now. Come home." Ártur knew his sons would obey him, however much they disliked his orders. He felt suddenly old and tired. If he could, he would relinquish his leadership to Zsigmond. But now was not the time. He would see this through to the end. He looked at the lovely little black wolf in his arms. How different her life might have been had she not been cursed with her so-called gifts. He hugged her tighter to his body, feeling the warmth leave her. His tears rolled down his face, falling steadily into her black fur.

Ártur and Leona approached their home and saw the assembled pack waiting. Of course, they already knew all that had happened. They waited somberly for their heartbroken Alpha. They stood silent, respectful of his grief. The Alpha and Grandmother walked slowly passed them.

Ártur knew already that Orsolya was with the midwife, that the cubs had died. He could feel the crushing grief from Orsola and Guillame. This day could not end soon enough for him. He opened the door to his house and laid his daughter on her bed.

Leona sat next to her, smoothing down her fur carefully. She heard Ártur slam the door and bark orders at the Omegas to ready a pyre. Tears flowed freely as she felt the pain from her family. So much death today, and so much more to come. And all because of an act of revenge from so long ago. Why couldn't they all let it go? Why did they feel the need to relive it over and over with each new generation?

Orsolya awoke, but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She knew that Guillame had never left her side, even when the midwife had told him she would sleep soundly after drinking the potion she had been given. He had refused to move and still held her hand. She felt his lips on her skin and his love all around her. But she felt this gaping hole in her heart. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes, she would have to admit that it was all real. Her sister was dead, her cubs were dead.

"Orsolya, I know you are awake, love. I know I cannot make it better, but I can share the burden with you. Please, let me share this with you. Do not push me away." Guillame tightened his hold on her hand and reached down to gently press his lips to her forehead. When he sat up straight he looked down into her open, teary eyes. He smiled at her as much as his heart could allow. He leaned in close and whispered, "We will go on, love. We have to."

Orsolya burst into tears and threw her arms around Guillame's neck, her body wracked by sobs. She knew he was right, but at this moment, it seemed impossible. She felt his hands stroking her hair, heard his murmured words of love. She had always thought she should not worry about the future, only the present. But this made the future that much harder to think of, alone, without her mate. She mourned over her sister, her cubs, and her future with the mate she adored.

The day progressed excruciatingly slowly for the pack. The pyre was readied, and at sunset, the pack assembled to send Zsálya to her new future. The cubs had been placed tenderly next to Zsálya, to travel with her.

Ártur waited silently, watching the arrival of all of his ten sons. Many had begun the trek home as soon as Zsálya sent her good-bye to her family. They lived in many territories and rarely returned. But this was their little sister who had been murdered. And before arriving they had heard of Orsolya's loss, and their hearts had broken further.

The members of the pack had made a circle around the pyre, but moved aside when Guillame arrived, Orsolya held tightly in his arms. He stopped next to Leona, who reached out to touch both her granddaughter and her mate.

Ártur's voice suddenly boomed out across the clearing. "We come to celebrate the life of my daughter, Zsálya, and the two unborn sons of Orsolya and Guillame. We mourn their deaths, but rejoice in the knowledge that they will be reborn someday, when the time is right." He nodded at Zsigmond, who picked up a burning torch and set fire to the waiting fuel under the pyre.

The flames quickly took hold and lit the darkening sky. The pack shifted as one and the assembled wolves and panthers howled to the moon their loss, their love, and their hopes for a better future for their loved ones.

--------------------------------------------------

The small black eyes looked out over the ocean from the deck of the steamship Persia. The werewolf breathed in the salty sea air and smiled smugly.

Rudolf had not been happy when he had shown up at the Council Chambers without notice or summons. But luck had been with him. He had escaped the Vlkolak betas by wading in the river for hours to keep his scent from them. When he reached a human port town he had taken passage on a boat that took him home. They would never find him now. But to be safe, Rudolf had sent him away, to the New World.

The letter in his pocket would introduce him to the North American Council. They had few weres in America that qualified to be members. Rudolf had embellished his exploits to make him a suitable candidate. But Rudolf had still been concerned about his being discovered. He had gone so far as to employ a witch who gave him a potion and worked her magic to change his fur from black to brown. He chuckled to himself. He had heard his cousin recite to the Council tales of the evils of magic, yet he employed it when it was to his advantage.

Yes, his cousin was very careful. He knew that the only reason he lived this day was that they were kin, and even Rudolf Metzger could not bring himself to kill one of his own line. But Niklas Metzger did not have that same constraint. If it was to his advantage in the future, he had no problem with killing his own. But for now, he would ingratiate himself to the provincial Americans and make his way to the role of Head of the Werewolf Council. He was destined for greatness.