Water's Reflection or Hero's Guilt

Chapter Fifty

          Quickly, Michael Westwind made his way through the empty hallway; he ran oddly, his back slightly arched, keeping an eye out for anyone that might see him. Within moments, Adam Clay followed his path. He too, remained wary of anyone that would detect them. He whispered softly to Lupine, who walked with him. A low growl came from her.

          The Mage stopped at a corner, only for a moment, so Adam would catch up to him. He grabbed the dog's collar, while his master drew his knife. He shot a glance around the corner. “Safe,” he whispered. Michael nodded, let go of Lupine, and continued forward, leading the way.

          In this manner, they infiltrated the fortress. Sir Byzantine had given them instructions how to get into the building. The servants entrance at the south side; it was hardly used, he recalled. And now that everyone was a werewolf, he doubted June was really interested in keeping the servant staff. With a war to prepare for, no one would pay attention to it.

          The knight had given them directions to navigate the maze-like structure. Specifically, the back ways that would be empty. They could not risk detection. Even though both Adam and Michael were adept fighters, any call for alarm would bring more werewolves than either of them would like. Adam carried only one throwing knife with him—his last, he had lost the others when fighting June at the market square the day before. Not to mention, they needed peace and quiet for their plan to succeed.

          At an empty cross section, Adam hesitated. “Left,” the Royal Mage told him. Adam didn't move. “We have to take a left here; the stairs are that way!” he hissed.

          “Sst,” was the only reply the trickster gave. He held a single finger to his ear to indicate the Mage listen closely. He put his other hand on Lupine's head, so that she would stay quiet. Footsteps, ever so soft, made their way through the corridor. They waited and listened; only a single pair of steps, coming closer.

          Quickly, they prepared themselves. The Mage took his sword, although he did not yet unsheathe it. Adam produced his knife. They met each others eye and nodded simultaneously. The men knew precisely what to do.

          And suddenly, when the footsteps had gotten near to their corner, they burst into motion. Adam whirled around the turn, surprising the man. He aimed and threw his knife before the werewolf could react; the knife struck his throat. He fell on his back with an awful gurgle. Michael sped past his partner and drew his silver weapon. He planted it in the man's heart, to make sure that this newborn werewolf would not survive. Adam collected his knife, covered in blood, as they both listened. Silence.

          “Leave him...?” the Royal Mage said.

          Adam shrugged. “We can waste time hiding him, but we can't hide the blood. Better we press on quickly, don't you think?” He did not show the slightest discomfort, which surprised Michael. They had killed a man. And even though he was a werewolf—an evil demon—he couldn't help but feel like there had to be another way. This man was only bitten for a day; he was more man than wolf. But Adam Clay did not look back.

          The Mage followed him and his dog through the hallway. They traversed two more corridors and reached the stairs before Adam spoke. The stairway was small, not the main stairway, though it looked to be going all the way up through the fortress to the upper floor. June would be there, in either the Royal General's quarters, or in Whitesands', they theorized.