WULFRAM

Part III.

Much later that night, when Thedric was sound asleep on his mat, Wulfram sat with Belton in the opposite corner of their room, arguing in hushed tones.

"This city is no place for the boy to be raised," Wulfram insisted. "If he were safely in a palace and being educated, that would be one thing."

"And what would you have us do, go back to the Five Kingdoms? You yourself said it was utter chaos."

"Of course not. It's too soon for that. The boy needs to learn first, before he can lead. We'll go someplace farther north, near The Spine. Let him work the land with us, get to know the common people of his village. Maybe then he can learn to heal the woes of our kingdom."

Belton's eyes glared in the dim moonlight shining through the open window. "You speak as if I've been idle. As if I've taught him nothing."

"Have you even thought to teach him how to focus his thauma?"

"He's shown little ability other than a sensitivity towards sorcery. My teachings have been focused elsewhere."

Wulfram's patience was wearing thin. "What could you possibly teach him in this sty? How to eat rodents? To pummel the neighborhood boys?"

"I've taught him how to survive," Belton spat. "I've taught him obedience. The art of subterfuge, of defeating his opponents in the shadows of the alleyway, anonymously."

"Anonymously? He's the blood of Sargoth Lightbringer himself. You heard the hag in the market. He's destined for greatness. To be a king, an emperor perhaps, not some cutpurse or petty assassin." Wulfram rose to his feet. "You're a damn fool. The decision is mine to make and I say we leave in the morning."

He turned his back on Belton, intent on going to lie down beside Thedric, but he could sense Belton behind him, gathering in his power, slowly, like the first wisps of clouds before a hurricane. Unlike in the city streets, this time Wulfram acted without hesitation. He spun, and fell upon Belton before he could even cry out, let alone summon his power to attack. With his canine teeth, Wulfram rent open Belton's throat. Simultaneously, his taloned hands tore through Belton's abdominal muscles and freed his viscera to unfold over his convulsing, outstretched legs. It was all over in a second or more. Wulfram had to forcibly stay himself from lapping at the blood and devouring Belton's neck flesh. He released the stormbringer, and stood, watching Belton's blue lips move. He's mine. He's mine, Belton mouthed, but the only sound was the air from his lungs rasping wetly through the gashes in his throat.

"He's not yours," Wulfram heard himself saying. "He doesn't belong to you, he doesn't belong to anyone but the people of Sargoth." He stood there and watched Belton's lips and quivering chest slowly come to rest.

Sometime later he realized that Thedric was standing beside him, gazing upon Belton's body. "You're fast," Thedric said. "By the time I could feel your change, you were already a wolf, and something else, but also a man. All at the same time."

"Are you angry with me?" Wulfram asked.

"No. He would have killed you. He was gathering his power. And you're right, he was a fool, and weak. I was already stronger than him. We should leave now. The Green Robes might come."

"Yes. Grab whatever belongings you have. Belton should have had papers from your mother. Your official certificate of birthright. A scroll perhaps?"

Thedric went to his bed mat and threw it aside, revealing a leather satchel beneath. "It's all here."

Wulfram nodded. "Anything else?"

"No."

"Then let's be off," Wulfram said, and he led the way out of the tenement building, ignoring the scent of blood and the pangs of hunger in his stomach.