Fondest Dreams Ch. 07

His gaze alit upon the matte-black wolf, standing at the top of the cliff and gazing down at his dead victim. Then the wolf turned and loped away, clearly not wanting to be here when her pack arrived. Wilhelm's heart burst into a blaze of anger, a rage such as he had never known. It burned his despair away, and made him a weapon aimed at the heart of the Schwein who had murdered his beloved.

The great eagle gave chase, diving at the fleeing Werewolf and screaming his rage to the Heavens and the Hells. Shifting back into his own form, which was armed to the teeth, never occurred to Wilhelm; his fury was absolute and all-consuming. He landed full upon the running Were's back, digging his talons deep into flesh and muscle as his beak snapped and tore at the back of his neck. Seeing red, Wilhelm rejoiced in the feeling of hot blood gushing into his mouth and soaking the golden feathers of his head and neck.

Instinctively, the wolf shook himself from side to side, trying to dislodge the unexpected attacker. Wilhelm's talons were too deep in his hide, though, and he only succeeded in opening the wounds wider. Next, the wolf pivoted and used his momentum to slam the eagle headfirst into the large tree he was passing. That worked.

Suns burst in front of Wilhelm's eyes, and his talons went slack of their own accord. The eagle came loose as the wolf pulled away, falling into the snow and lying there, stunned and bruised.

Wilhelm gathered every bit of magical energy left to him and reached out after his fleeing foe, seeking to tear his worthless body limb from limb and reduce the scraps to ash. It was not to be; blackness rushed up to smother his mind.

<Fuck! I will chase you to the ends of the earth, dog! You will wish you had never been born!!!>

The spell dissolved in a harmless green-blue flash as unconsciousness claimed him.

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Wilhelm's feathered head pounded like a cannonade. He slowly took stock, blinking up at the pine boughs overhead. It took but a moment for him to remember why he was an eagle, lying on his back in the snow. He immediately wished to forget. <Mein Gott... Zsálya... my darling Zsálya...>

Fighting through great pain in mind, body, and soul, Wilhelm mentally assessed his condition. Bruises everywhere, overexerted muscles, and what felt like a mild concussion. He would live. Carefully and awkwardly he flopped over onto his chest, unwilling to try shifting back to his native form just yet. Wilhelm now no longer felt despair... or anything else. All of his emotions had drained away, leaving a hollow void. It lent him a curious calm, which let him focus. His breath rasping with the effort, the eagle managed to stand, then to extend his wings.

A normal eagle in his condition wouldn't have been able to take off. But, by summoning up a swift bit of wind for extra lift, Wilhelm managed to leave the ground on his aching wings. Judging by the sun, not much time had passed.

A few minutes later, the eagle perched on a treetop and watched somberly as a procession of Weres passed below him. It was led by an alpha Werewolf, carrying the still body of Willi's beloved little black angel. He presumed that this alpha must be Ártur, her father. Zsálya's fur looked just as lustrous as when he'd left her in his dream the previous night. Could it really have been less than a day ago? It seemed eons. He saw the graceful woman from Zsálya's dream and realized that she was looking in his direction. <Does she know what I really am?>

Regardless, Wilhelm knew that it was foolish and probably dangerous to approach these Weres, given the circumstances. He watched as they entered the largest building. He recognized it: the miniature castle from Zsálya's dream. He now knew it to be her grandmother's home.

Perching in a birch tree, Wilhelm's eyes did not leave the open doorway until he saw Zsálya's father exit and slam the door behind him. He heard the Alpha's deep voice yelling orders to the omegas as they scurried through the compound. Even though he'd never met the Alpha, Wilhelm could clearly feel his grief over the loss of his precious daughter. He watched the Alpha carefully as he made his way across the compound and met with a tall male who looked just as grief-stricken. <Could that be Guillame Bertrand?> Wilhelm had not had a chance to meet the newest member of the Were Council before he had mysteriously vanished. This male matched the description exactly. Why had he come? Did it have something to do with the evil Werewolf that Zsálya had dreamt of? Bertrand could not have known he would find his mate here. Still, that was a puzzle for another day.

The bird watched the compound and saw the return of a group of males, clearly brothers. As they came closer, he could see that each was the image of their father, the Alpha. He saw tears in their eyes and the heartbreak etched into their faces. Zsálya had been truly loved by her family, and this confirmation injected a bit of welcome warmth into the emptiness of Wilhelm's heart. From their dusty appearance, he surmised they had been looking for their sister's killer, but their mannerisms and the lack of blood on them said that they had not been successful. Verdammt.

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The pyre had just been completed, and the body of the Alpha's daughter laid upon it. The pack was beginning to gather when those present witnessed an astonishing sight: a large brown-feathered bird flew down and landed on the pyre beside the still body.

Thinking the bird to be a carrion-eater, several omegas hurried forward to shoo it away. But the wolves stayed their hands and voices when they saw that it was a Golden Eagle, an unusual sight in their lands. Stranger still, this eagle's head and neck were red with fresh blood. All present wondered what kind of portent this might be.

As the pack members watched and wondered, the bloodstained eagle stared at the young female's body for many minutes. Then it hopped forward a step, closed its eyes, and lowered its head, resting it against that of the fallen wolf. It stayed like this, eyes shut, for a few moments. To those watching, it seemed quite a long time.

Then it straightened itself and opened its eyes once more. The great eagle spread its wings and took off, disappearing into the trees.

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As he banked to resume his perch and watch Zsálya's funeral, Wilhelm was startled to feel a mental invitation coming from the little castle, like a gentle tap upon his shoulder. He altered course, landed on the branch of a tree outside a bedroom window, and watched as Zsálya's grandmother approached the window, opening it.

"Please, come in, young man. I would like to speak with you before you go." Leona showed no surprise at his form or his presence.

The eagle flew to the windowsill, then hopped to the floor. Colors swirled, the air shimmered, and before Leona stood a Knight-Commander of the Azure Star. He was bruised and battered, and his face and upper chest were smeared with Werewolf blood, staining his snow-white tabard. But the handsome young man stood erect and proud, gazing at the female Were before him with an air of polite respect.

Leona sighed and came to stand in front of him, reaching her hand out to gently cup his face despite the blood. "Thank you, young human. Thank you for loving my granddaughter. She loved you with all her heart, and I am so grateful for your presence in her life."

An ocean of grief came rushing up to fill the empty void in Wilhelm's chest. With a herculean effort he maintained his composure, but his voice was unsteady. "I failed her! I should have been here in time to save her!" His voice faded as the full implication of his own words sank in. "I failed..."

"You failed nothing. The night she was born I saw her fate, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tried. But nothing I did changed her future, as nothing you could do would change it either. But you gave her something I could not. You gave her hope; you gave her a love her father and I could not. And for that, the two of us will be forever grateful."

"Fate?" Wilhelm snapped, jerking away from Leona's touch. "Do not speak to me about fate!" He spat the word from his mouth as though it was poisonous. "There is no future but what we make for ourselves!" he told Leona fervently, his voice rising on a renewed tide of rage. Not at Leona, but at himself, at das Stück Scheiße who had murdered Zsálya, at the multiverse in general. "Verdammt, mein kleiner Wolf," he growled, mostly to himself, "you should have told me. I should have pressed harder. I should have... I could have..."

His reserve broke, tears streaming down his face, making trails through the drying blood. Leona gathered him into her arms, patting the human's back through his cloak and armor as he sobbed on her shoulder. "Hear me, child," Leona told him firmly when he pulled away. Her eyes caught his and held them fast, the weight of her age and wisdom pressing down upon him. "The differences between our races run deeper than flesh. We are moved by forces that humans, even wise ones such as you, cannot hope to know or to understand. For us, fate and destiny are very real, and we trust in them... even in moments such as this."

"I... respect your beliefs, My Lady. But I disagree with you entirely."

Leona gave him a soft, mysterious smile. "Then be true to what you believe, human, and we shall do the same. Let us see what happens. Can we agree on that, at least?"

"...Yes. Yes, we can, Frau Leona."

"So, you know my name. Might I know yours? I never asked Zsálya, and she never told me."

"Ach, please forgive me. I am Wilhelm von Helsing, Knight-Commander of the Order of the Azure Star."

"I do not know of this Order," Leona remarked, glancing curiously over the twelve-pointed blue star emblazoned on Wilhelm's white tabard.

The human whirled in surprise when a voice chimed in from behind him: "I do know of them. They do noble work." Ártur strode into the room and laid a massive hand on Willi's shoulder. "Thank you, my boy. To know that Zsálya was loved by a man such as you..." Ártur choked back his tears, his voice catching in his throat. The giant of a man could not finish his thought before he broke down, his hand slipping from the human's shoulder. Leona ran to his side, holding the Alpha as he sobbed.

Wilhelm maintained a respectful silence, allowing this formidable Werewolf as much dignity as his grief would permit. For his part, Wilhelm had cried all his tears for now. He would cry again later, when the time came to properly mourn his little angel. But right now there were duties which demanded his attention.

"Alpha Kardos," Wilhelm began once Ártur had composed himself, "Zsálya led me to understand that this pack is in grave and imminent danger. The Order of the Azure Star stands ready to aid you. With your permission, I shall bring a force of Knights to this place to defend your pack."

"I deny this permission." Ártur's voice was polite but very firm, backed with a certainty of authority and purpose.

"Without our assistance, Alpha, the Vlkolak will die!" Wilhelm protested, more shocked than upset at his refusal.

Ártur nodded. "So it must be. Rest assured that plans are in place that will permit many to survive, particularly females and cubs. Our people will live on... but this pack must die."

Wilhelm shook his head slowly from side to side. "This is madness."

Leona smiled and came forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. "This is what it means to be a Were, Sir Wilhelm. Fear not for us. I see a bright destiny ahead of you, young human, a long road lit with the fires of knowledge, justice, and compassion. Look ahead and walk that road. Do not look behind and attempt to change that which must be."

Wilhelm found himself blushing. "Thank you, My Lady. Alpha, your refusal is final?" he asked formally, turning back to the massive male.

"It is," Ártur confirmed.

"Very well; I cannot force help upon you in this matter, and you know how to contact us if your wishes should change. If there is nothing else, I must take my leave. I have pressing business elsewhere."

"And what might that be?" Ártur asked, the tiniest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth.

Wilhelm's eyes flashed. "I will find den Hund who murdered Zsálya, and repay him in kind." He reached up and brushed his fingers across the blood which still smeared his face. "I have his scent," he told Ártur, looking the massive Alpha straight in the eye, the look of one equal to another.

Ártur's mouth curved into a grim smile. "Good hunting, my boy."

"Danke, mein Herr." Wilhelm gave Ártur and Leona a ghastly, death's-head grin. The bloodstains, the gleaming chainmail, and the rage burning in his blue eyes made the young human look like some avenging angel out of legend. Ártur's smile widened in reply, and Leona shivered at the thought of what this boy might do to the killer when he found him. She approved, but would have preferred not to dwell on the details.

Wilhelm turned and strode back to the window. The air shimmered, there was a soft flash, and the bloodied golden eagle launched itself out the open window. Ártur and Leona went to their pack, to begin Zsálya's funeral.

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