Snow was starting to fall as Faolan and Morgan trudged through the wilderness the next day. It was eerily quiet, and the light was already fading from the sky. Faolan could still make out the signs of the Queen's passing beneath the scant centimeters of snow that covered the ground. She wondered where exactly the Queen was going, and how long it would take them to get into werewolf territory. She hadn't looked at any maps in so long…
Faolan sighed, and pulled her cloak tighter around herself, glancing at Morgan to see how he was doing. His head was bowed against the wind that was blowing the snow around them in circles, and his hood was up. She could not see his face. It was odd, to see him out of Whites. She supposed she looked odd to him too, but for her, it was more natural not to be wearing white.
Faolan had not seen her father that morning as they left the camp, and for that she was glad. She had meant it when she decided she never wanted to see him again. She didn't want him part of this life- indeed, he was hardly part of it at all anymore. It had been so strange, though, for him, a figure of her past, to come into her present… She sighed again and concentrated on where she was putting her feet on the fast becoming slippery ground.
Suddenly Morgan stopped, reaching out an arm to halt Faolan, and he pointed ahead, through the trees, being entirely silent. A chill ran down Faolan's spine as she peered through the snow gently falling upon the forest, straining to see what Morgan had seen. His silence scared her- what was it?
Then, in the distance, Faolan heard a loud neigh- the neigh of a Companion. Just barely, in the distance, she made of the movement of people, figures. She frowned. What was it? What was going on? She looked at Morgan.
"Battle," he whispered, and Faolan turned her head sharply back. Sure enough she could hear now the sounds of sword of sword, the thud of arrows sinking into wood, flesh, and dirt. Faolan let herself sink partly into her werewolf self, just enough to enhance her senses, and sniffed. Sure enough, she could smell Valdemarens- and werewolves. She could also smell blood. Fear ran through her, and she stared.
"What do we do?" she asked Morgan, dropping into a crouch.
"Get closer," Morgan answered, "We're not here to fight but…"
Faolan nodded, understanding. Slowly, the two of them crept forward, hiding behind trees and keeping low. It was one of the few times Faolan wished she was wearing White. They would blend in so much better. The snow was falling heavier now, and it muffled the sounds of the skirmish and blurred their sight of it.
Soon Faolan could make out the people fighting. None of the werewolves were in wolf form, all were wearing heavy furs and wielding weapons. It was a tight battle, with all of the people in a small area- not spread out. With a start Faolan realized that one of the Heralds fighting was the Queen- the other two arrayed out beside her in a protective circle.
"The Queen," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth and then grabbed Morgan's arm to stop him from going forward, adding, "No- we can't go."
Morgan growled at her, but relaxed, watching with her. They couldn't go because their positions as spies would be at stake if any werewolves recognized them, and as Faolan had learned, it was impossible to pretend to be part of a battle, and actually keep oneself out of it.
"Your bow," Morgan hissed a moment later.
Faolan's eyes didn't move from the battle, watching as the Queen and her companions, and the other blue clad soldier's with her battled, some falling, some felling. Her heart ached every time someone dropped to the snow, staining it red- both werewolf and Valdemaren. She wanted to run over and scream for them to stop because it was stupid and useless and pointless. Neither side was wining, and the fight did not slow as Faolan carefully pulled her bow from her packs and strung it, pulling an arrow from her quiver to string quietly. Just in case. Her heart thudded in her ears- she feared for both outcomes of the battle, and felt a horrible guilt to not be fighting- to not be helping either side!
"Faolan!" Morgan suddenly shouted- but Faolan saw it at the same time he did. A chance moment of weakness- and a young werewolf was swinging a sword at the Queen, in a position where he was sure to strike… Faolan loosed her arrow, pointing it right at the werewolf's throat before she could consider what she was doing. The moment her fingers opened she wished she could close them again because no matter who that werewolf was he did not deserve to die. She wanted to cry, to scream, all in the seconds that it took the arrow to fly through the air, going true, and killing the werewolf almost instantly.
The moment the arrow thudded into the warrior's throat, Faolan suddenly realized she knew who it was. As Roscoe fell to the ground dead, Faolan dropped her bow with a scream and cry of revulsion, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach. But she had to keep watching, watching the battle. No one seemed to notice the stray arrow- but the tide of the battle had turned, and soon the werewolves were running away, the Valdemarens on their horses and Companions chasing them down.
Then a knife was at Faolan's throat, cold in the winter and sharp. She stopped breathing, afraid to move, and glanced sideways. Morgan was in a similar position, with a strong werewolf she did not recognize wrapping his arms around Morgan, knife held roughly under his chin. A thin trickle of blood was dripping down Morgan's throat.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you- traitor," the werewolf holding her captive snarled- and Faolan realized he must have seen the whole thing… But she and Morgan smelled like werewolves.
"I'm Faolan!" she said quickly, trying to speak carefully with the knife to her throat, "I… I've been lost- I- Dashiell… the Commander's mind speaker?"
"Does this explain your position in regards to the battle?" the werewolf asked. He must have been a Scout, keeping to the edges… Why hadn't she smelled him? Or heard him? Or otherwise sensed him?
"I didn't mean to shoot him, I swear!" Faolan said, and it was partly true- it she had known it was Roscoe… But then she felt a heaviness in her stomach, and knew she would have shot anyway. The Herald inside her wouldn't have let her do otherwise.
"We're traveling back to the werewolves…" Faolan tried to add but the werewolf holding her stopped her.
"Who's the other?" he asked in a low voice, just near her ear. Faolan's eyes flickered over to Morgan. He looked frightened, and Faolan hoped he'd keep his head and his reason.
"Morgan Derry," she said quickly, "He's an ex Valdemaren soldier- I found him, helped him with his Change… he wants to be one of us."
"What were you doing so far in Valdemaren lands?" he asked, and Faolan realized she was treading a very thin line, and only her being a werewolf was protecting her. Only.
"I got lost," Faolan answered, "After gaining true control."
"Kill the other," the werewolf with Faolan ordered, "We'll take her back for questioning."
"NO!" Faolan screamed as the knife was jabbed upwards into Morgan's throat. Blood spurted from him as his heart beat its last beats, staining the white snow a dark red. Morgan gurgled for a moment, blooding leaking from his lips, and then fell to the ground. She yanked away from her captor- his hold had been loosening, and dropped to the ground, turning Morgan onto his back- but he was gone. He eyes were already blank and staring, and Faolan felt a terrible pain welling up inside, a frustrated pain and anger.
"DAMN IT!" she screamed, and punched the snow, tears leaking out of her eyes- because there was nothing she could do.
"Why the HELL did you kill him?" she yelled, whirling around in the snow to face the two werewolves.
"Valdemaren soldiers never truly turn their cloaks," the one snarled, "You should know that by now. He would have killed you in your sleep one night, or turned spy once he got into the camps. He was no true werewolf."
"He was one of us!" Faolan yelled, "As much as I am! As much as you are! He deserved a chance!"
"He was the enemy, Faolan," the other spat, and yanked her to her feet, "Need we kill you as well?"
For a moment Faolan considered saying, "Yes, PLEASE kill me too!" but then she remembered her reasons for returning, and knew she had to keep going. Because what she knew could end this forever- and no more Morgan's would die. No more Roscoe's would die. So she clenched her fists, looked down at her feet, and shook her head.
"You'll come quietly?" her captor asked, and she nodded.
"Good," he said, "Then you're learning. You say you have true control?"
Faolan nodded as they started walking, leading her away from the body of Morgan Derry. She hated leaving him, to be covered by the snow. With a glance back at the area, she made a mental picture of the place, and sent it to Raul.
:I'm sorry,: she said as well, but the Companion only answered with a mental hug, leaving Faolan still cold on the inside.
OOO
Cold and mourning, Faolan was brought into a werewolf camp late that night. The Captain interviewed her- but he didn't ask too many questions because once he learned that she was Faolan, he told her she'd have to be taken to the Commander. There was an order that if she returned, that she be taken directly to him. Two werewolves escorted her that very night another ten miles- they turned into wolf form for extra stamina and speed, and they reached the Commander's camp a few hours before dawn.
Exhausted, she was dragged into the Commander's tent. She wasn't surprised, in her numb state, to find him awake. The Commander was always awake. He looked as he had those months ago, perhaps a little older, a little more tired, but pretty much the same. It was like walking into the past, after all that had happened.
"What has happened to you?" was what he asked as she collapsed into a chair before him, human again and wrapped in several heavy furs with a mug of hot tea thrust into her hands.
"I got true control," she whispered- her throat was raw and sore.
"So we suspected from the carnage that was all that you left of your group," the Commander said dryly, "Did you know Faolan- that you are supposed to gain true control not by murdering other werewolves?"
"I know, sir," Faolan answered, sipping her tea. Her fingers felt numb around the mug, "And I apologize."
"Care to explain?"
Faolan sighed, feeling depressed, and said, "It was… a dream, actually. A nightmare. About my life before I became a werewolf, and some of my time in the Villages…"
The Commander stared at her, and then said shortly, "One does not gain true control from a nightmare, Faolan. Now tell me what truly happened."
She stared back at him, having no idea what to say. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to her she'd have to explain how that happened…
"Perhaps… Faolan," the Commander whispered, his voice suddenly silky dangerous soft, "Perhaps you are still a Valdemaren…? Is that possible?"
Faolan shook her head fiercely, "No- sir I swear that isn't it. Valdemar abandoned me and I have abandoned it."
"Then where did you go these months? Why did you bring a Valdemaren soldier with you? And why did you just watch the battle where your fellow werewolves were fighting?" the Commander asked. Faolan recalled him saying he was a suspicious person, and now she knew how very true that was.
"I wandered around… lost… scared… confused…" Faolan whispered, looking at the ground, "I didn't think you'd take me back after what I'd done. And then… I found Morgan. On a full moon. Wild, crazy… I ran with him, and when he changed back I explained to him what had happened to him. I helped him control his Change and then…."
"Then…?" the Commander urged her.
"I got him true control," she whispered, "Without killing. I told you a nightmare got me true control and… I was meditating when I had that nightmare. In a deep trance state. The nightmare was vivid, all my deepest fears. In the darkness of the night… Everything that ever happened to me fell down on me and I lost it. I'm sorry… I wish it hadn't happened… but when I met Morgan it gave me an idea. The mind is a powerful thing on it's own, and I taught him to find that meditative trance state. Then, with guidance, he pushed himself over the line- with the mind as his only tool. I think that maybe… maybe all werewolves can do that. That is why I returned."
She dared a glance up, praying, and saw a glimpse of hope in his eyes- but then it was gone, and his frown deepened. He stared at Faolan for a long few minutes, his face unreadable.
"Don't be silly, Faolan," the Commander shook his head, "One cannot get true control that way. But Morgan is now dead- and a good thing to for he could never be trusted, even if he had true control… I doubt he had true control, Faolan. You are young."
Faolan stared back up at him, then shook her head, "No… it works- it will work here! You must let me try!"
"You mustn't," a new voice said, and a chill ran down Faolan's spine. She turned her head, and saw Dashiell pushing into the tent.
"Explain this to us, Dashiell," the Commander said calmly, turning to the other werewolf.
"Because there are two ways to look at things here," Dashiell said, "Either she is telling the truth- and always has been, and is a poor young werewolf who gained true control in an accident with her group- probably got into a fight with one of them or something, and really did stumble upon a Valdemaren soldier… Or, and this is equally as possible, after gaining true control, she went back to Valdemar, because with her mind speech, the Witches there spotted her. They trained her, and have sent her back now to actually spy against us- and they sent an older spy to go with her. That Morgan soldier… I cannot believe she spent as much time with him as she claims to have without having been indoctrinated against us."
Faolan gave Dashiell a withering look and said, "Don't be ridiculous. I have never been an enemy of werewolves!"
At the same time the Commander sighed and said, "I think- Dashiell, that we have had enough suspicion regarding Faolan…"
"Except when you were killing them," Dashiell added offhandedly with a laugh- ignoring the Commander. Faolan's gut clenched as she thought of Roscoe, and she swayed in her chair with dizziness from exhaustion. It was hopeless…. no one would ever try out her theory of true control and as she realized that- and that it probably wouldn't have worked anyway, she realized she didn't care anymore. She just didn't care. It was all too much. There was a dull thudding in the back of her head- a headache, from exhaustion, and she shoved to her feet, dropping the mug of tea. It cracked, and hot, steamy tea flowed across the dirt, quickly sinking into it.
"Damn it!" she yelled, whirling to face Dashiell and the Commander, "I HATE KILLING! I'm sick of it and this war! I WISH I COULD BRING THEM ALL BACK TO LIFE! I HATE THIS DAMNED WAR- watching YOU kill Valdemarens, watching Valdemarens kill YOU. AND IT'S ALL FUCKING POINTLESS! I HAVE FOUND A WAY FOR TRUE CONTROL THAT DOES NOT INVOLVE KILLING AND YOU THRUST IT ASIDE! I am a Valdemaren AND a werewolf and I CAN'T STAND WATCHING MY FAMILIES TRYING TO MURDER EACH OTHER! DO YOU LIKE WAR- that you are SO EAGER to dismiss any idea of true control that comes along?!?! You should be spending your time looking for NEW ways rather than fomenting the old! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTS TO END THIS WAR?"
She spun to the Commander, "I am a Herald AND A WEREWOLF. Morgan Derry too and your soldiers KILLED HIM like he was nothing because HE WAS FROM VALDEMAR! A FELLOW WEREWOLF! WHAT are your priorities?? MINE IS PEACE! My LIFE I dedicate to helping- my LIFE exists to END THIS WAR. What do YOU exist for? Do you WANT to live in war, in suspicion, in HATE, in SELFISHNESS, so that you and your children can continue to live in war, hate and evil?? YOUR LIVES ARE BASED ON EVIL! I KNOW you think it's the only war but am I the only one who ever looked for an alternative??? AND NOW I HAVE ONE! So you WILL try it because deep down inside you are a DECENT PERSON!!"
Then she collapsed onto the ground, sobbing, unable to stop, unable to see or hear or feel. But she did hear what the Commander said- a single sane voice among the other thousands screaming in her mind.
"Kill her."
A/N: This is not the end! But getting close. :) Thanks MUCHLY MUCHLY to my wonderful reviewers!!
SwiftShadow- Yeah... I'm not so good at updating recently. I just wrote this ENTIRE chapter in the last hour. Heh heh...
StormyPhoenix- Yah... I decided it was time to bring back the old stuff. You know- I made up that entire chapter just then. It was totally not in the layout.
Capiorcorpus- Yeah... about that... she made the bow so it is a very small one. Small enough for a three year old to draw.
balecka92- Yup! A happy chapter to precede this very unhappy chapter.
Clarissa- I guess we'll never now what happens to him:)
ginalee- Mwahaa... gentle. I was softening you up for the blows of this chapter. (No I'm actually sad about this chapter too... I'm not an evil, sadistic author!)