The air was as dark as evening, prematurely muted by the dense cloudscape that had rolled in over night, heavy with sleet. It spattered across the forest periodically - icy slush that ran down the back of the warrior's necks and soaked their clothes. Even those in wolf form had difficulty keeping the trickles from seeping through their thick coats, and the air was permeated with the smell of wet dog.
Following the disturbing revelations from Fenrik, Blake had wasted no time pushing forward with his assault.
They had questioned the mercenary well into the night, until the shadows were so deep they took on a sultry life of their own. A hundred different shades of black layering themselves in the darkened corners, the tiny flickers of light from the lamps creating an illusion of movement so realistic he'd driven his wolf crazy, glancing frequently into the nothingness, half-convinced there was something hidden amidst the black.
Knowing Hannah was not nearly as safe as he had believed left Blake ridden with a driving anger - his instincts had told him something was off about Macleiry. The manner of his speech and the insincerity behind his eyes when he smiled had left Blake on edge whenever they were in the same room.
But, plagued by the rogues, burdened by his sense of duty, and with his wolf's natural instincts to fight a perceived rival creating havoc with his usually perfect control... he had convinced himself that his attachment to Hannah had clouded his judgment, and ruthlessly shoved his doubts to one side - resolving not to trust himself around the two strangers.
If anything happened to her...
As much as his heart clenched at the thought of leaving Hannah at the mercy of her so-called family, the Macleirys clearly wanted her alive for something, whereas the rogues had proved they wanted her dead.
As long as they remained embedded at the Craggs, they were a threat he could not ignore.
Fenrik had proven surprisingly cooperative once Asher had outlined his plans to hand him over to the Elders - a deal that would see the mercenary live out the rest of his life in one of their notorious prisons rather than be executed for his crimes.
As much as Blake desired a stronger, far more primal justice for his fallen warriors, his instinct to pull the defeated Fenrik from the icy waters had paid off. The information he bartered with proved invaluable - clear and concise plans of the Craggs, complete with hidden routes in and out of the valley, lookout points and detailed maps of the caverns he had explored.
Blake used that knowledge to lead the main fighting force straight to the largest, and most complex cave; the multi-chambered caverns the humans called Tungl. A dirt road, now almost completely reclaimed by the surrounding forest, led to a large clearing where visitors had once gathered for guided tours. Trails led off either side heading for Tungls counterparts, though these too were long since neglected and left to crumble away. It was quiet. Isolated.
Abandoned?
"There's no fresh scent," Marcus pointed out over the link. "I hate to say it Alpha, but... I think we're too late."
He received only a growl in reply.
Reports began to filter through the pack link from the smaller parties. Nothing more than a few remnants of recent inhabitation had been found up at Sweet William. None of the trails yielded signs of life, and Blake's warriors wore matching expressions of confusion as they experienced no resistance around Tungl. Blake bit back a curse of frustration.
Had Fenrik deceived them? Had they come to the wrong place?
No. The air smelt of rogue. The wind stirred up the dust around the entrance, carrying with it the smells of a campsite overused by too many bodies - the stench of uncovered latrines prominent amongst the usual aromas.
There were marks on the trunks of nearby trees that looked like sword cuts, the dirt around the entrances to the caves was scuffed by the heavy tread of dozens of feet and scorched areas of earth suggested several campfires once burned merrily. Not so long ago, this valley had been home to a large group of wolves.
So, where were they?
Marcus stood, staring at a patch of ground more torn up than the rest; his expression thoughtful as he knelt down to touch the ground. "Blood," he confirmed, rubbing the red dirt between his fingers. "and look, you can still see the outline of the stones," he gestured to a faint series of dints in the dirt that ran around the bloodstains in a near perfect square.
"Training ground," Blake grunted, mentally counting up all the fire pits outside. "They were here for a while, and in numbers too."
"So where did they go?" Marcus frowned, straightening up. "When did they go?"
Issac joined them, a rusty metal saucepan held loosely in one hand, a frown on his face. "The fire pits are all cold," he reported, scraping at a thin film of grease lining the base of the pan with the tip of his knife. "And this hasn't been used for a couple of days." He chucked it to the floor with a dull thud and a look of disgust. "So, where are they all?" he asked, looking between the two wolves expectantly.
"It was a diversion," Blake murmured, looking around the deserted clearing. Marcus shot him a confused look. "The attack on Blackridge," he elaborated. "They wanted to make damn sure our attention was elsewhere while they cleared out. This many wolves... We'd have noticed them moving - "
" - If we hadn't been distracted by Fenrik and the attack on our borders," Marcus finished with a groan.
"They sacrificed thirty wolves just to move camps?" Issac said in disbelief. "Why?"
"Perhaps the answers lay within." Blake's voice was bleak as he rested his eyes on the cave entrance. "Shall we?" he asked and strode ahead ducking his head to avoid the overhang of rock. His lieutenant followed him reluctantly inside, Issac close on his heels.
The cavern blazed with light. The warriors had lit every lamp and candle they could find until the torches no longer necessary. From the entrance, the whole descent was visible, opening up into a wide cave that spread out into a complex series of tunnels.
The cave was like the clearing outside; marked, stained and scuffed with recent life. The largest caverns had been used as living space, one had once been used for storage - but all the food and supplies had gone. Another looked as though it had been used as a workshop for tools and weapons - but had been gutted of all the useful equipment.
"It'll take us days to search all this," Issac breathed in awe.
"We'd better get started then," Marcus sniffed, tossing him a torch. He picked up the remnants of a sign that had once been bolted to the wall. The faded text detailed the layout of the cave for any tourists looking to explore. "Handy," he muttered to himself.
Small passages led to run-off caverns. once used as sleeping quarters, they were full of camping beds and sleeping bags, discarded and abandoned like the rest of the caves. The air was colder here - much colder - in the late autumn chill and enclosed deep in the rock, the temperatures within the caves could drop below freezing on even mild days. Each open area had a well stocked fire pit and heaps of blankets, furs and throws still littered the floors, left behind by the fleeing rogues.
"They left in a hurry," Marcus observed, his nose wrinkling with distaste as the scent of rogue flooded the tunnels, permeated into the rock. "and they were here a while," he added.
"Right under our noses," Blake agreed sourly.
Despite nearly every section of the caves being stripped of anything even vaguely useful, Blake was surprised to find one small cavern that provided a plethora of wealth. Clearly once used as a makeshift office or study, piles of abandoned documents, ledger and various records littered the rock floor, tossed about as though someone had searched the area in a hurry.
Issac's face lit up as he ducked under the low hanging entrance and scanned the mess they'd left behind. "I do love it when they help us out like this, he murmured.
Blake grinned, his eyes taking in the thin spidery script that covered many of the loose pages on the floor.
There has to be something here we can use, he murmured to Rothan, then sighed. It's going to take some finding though.
Rothan rolled his eyes. Sometimes I think you forget we're the Alpha, he reminded his human dryly. There's a reason we have a hierarchy, you know. They find things. We use things. Remember?
Files had been thrown carelessly about the enclosed space, their contents spilling out of the sheaths and several lock boxes piled precariously in one corner, some already flung open and void of contents.
"I wonder if they found what they were looking for?" Issac commented, scooping up a half-filled ledger carefully as he picked his way across the floor. "Funny, I never really pictured rogues keeping accurate records."
"Better for us that they do," Blake observed. "Search it," he ordered the young warrior. "If you find anything of use, bring it straight to me."
The young warrior nodded his understanding. "What am I looking for?"
"Evidence," Blake grunted. "Anything that can link this place to Elmwood." He looked around. "Do you need help?"
Issac shook his head - "No, I got this." - and settled down on the floor to begin the arduous task of sifting through the loose papers.
Marcus meanwhile had found his way much deeper into the interlocking tunnels, relying as much on his nose to find his way as on the wavering light of his torch and, after several wrong turns, Blake found him facing an archway carved roughly out of the rock and fitted with a sturdy wooden door. A lone warrior was working on the lock with little sign of success.
"What's in there?"
"No idea," Marcus mused. "we can't get it open."
"It was purpose built," Blake murmured, his eyes tracing the rough grain of the wood. "There must be something important on the other side."
"You think?" Marcus asked dryly, then sighed and passed a weary hand over his face as Blake raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Alpha. The lack of sleep is getting to me."
Blake slammed the palm of his hand against the wood hoping to gauge its thickness, perhaps it could be forced open? The heavy, dull thud as his hand made contact suggested otherwise.
Without warning, a cold trickle of fear washed over him and he flinched, snatching his hand back from the door. Rothan let out a snarl and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to retreat as far from the door as possible.
Flee! Rothan urged him.
Why? There's nothing here.
I don't know... Blake was shocked by the level of fear in Rothan's voice.
"Alpha?" the warrior asked in alarm, one hand hovering over the lock. He sensed the sudden tension Blake was exuding and his eyes flew up and down the chamber, seeking the danger.
Marcus copied his Alpha, a meaty fist banging on the door, his brow furrowed with concern. "What is it?"
Blake merely shook his head. He stared at the door intently. There were no modifications, nothing indicating a threat. The stone frame had been carved out of the natural rock - a crevice that had been patiently widened with hand-held tools until it could hold the plain wood door that sat snug in the gap.
There were no etchings or carvings, no decoration of any kind. Nothing suggesting magic or - His eyes flew to his Beta's fist, still resting on the wood.
could it be?
"What do you feel when you touch the door?" he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral and steady.
Marcus raised his eyebrows and considered the door carefully. "I don't feel anything," he replied. "The wood is warm, the stone is cold..." he looked back at Blake in confusion.
"You?" Blake asked the warrior.
"Nothing, Alpha," the warrior confirmed, staring at the door in consternation.
Gritting his teeth, Blake brushed his fingers over the wood a second time, barely grazing the rough surface. The sudden jolt of fear that accompanied that touch made him visibly recoil, and he took several steps backwards.
"I think..." Blake chose his words carefully, unwilling to admit how close he'd been to fleeing the cave. "...the doorway has been dosed with the same pheromone the rogues used in the ambush."
The Beta's eyes widened. "Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to keep Alphas out of this room," he observed. He glanced between the door and Blake, letting out a low growl as he tracked the subtle edge of fear he saw in his friend's eyes. "Break it down if you have to," he ordered the wolf still picking at the lock. "whatever it takes to get me in that room!"
The warrior nodded and doubled his efforts with grim determination.
It took over an hour to force the door off its hinges, the lock so rusted no amount of persuasion could tempt it to open. With a heavy thud, the final hinge gave up the ghost and the two wolves were able to push the door inwards, letting it fall the floor with an impressive clatter that echoed about the chambers with the rhythm of a hundred beaten drums.
In awe of the echo, none of them had time to react to the wolf.
Out of the darkness it leapt, straight over the remnants of the door a growl rumbling deep in its chest. Wild of eye and matted of fur, it charged past the startled warriors at lightening speed, disappearing through the tunnels in a desperate bid for freedom.
"What the hell? Rogue!" Marcus ran after it, calling to the other warriors to cut it off before it could get outside.
Blake remained by the open doorway, staring into the pitch black beyond.
When the door had fallen a billowing cloud of pheromones had risen up from within, chocking his wolf with fear and leaving him momentarily frozen. Cautiously he edged towards the opening and picked up one of the torches shining the dim light inside.
The fetid little hole showed all the signs of long-term occupation -- rotten food littered the floor, a small pile of filthy rags looked well slept on, and one corner held a smell so foul Blake was glad the light didn't reach that far.
"It's a prison cell," he murmured, backing away before the pheromones could overwhelm him.
And it's saturated, Rothan panted.
Why would they put one of their own in --
Blake's eyes widened and he closed his eyes, concentrating all his senses into pushing past the fear that surrounded cavern like a cloud, and filtering through the scent of rogue, sweat and bodily fluids until -
There! Can you smell it? he hissed to his wolf. He felt Rothan's surprise, but received no reply over the thick layer of fear that accosted them both.
It can't be. He's not a rogue...
He spun round and dashed after the Beta.
In a small side chamber and finally cornered, the ragged young wolf snarled and snapped at anyone that dared approach it, His hindquarters pressed into the solid rock, his tail tucked itself firmly between his legs showing a deep and abiding fear, but his teeth remained bared with defiance. There was no doubt that this wolf planned on going down fighting.
"Stop!" Blake shouted just as a warrior prepared to lunge for the wolf's neck. "He's not a rogue!"
Blake approached cautiously, bracing himself against the overwhelming scent of terror that surrounded the escapee. "Shift," he ordered firmly, pouring all the weight of an Alpha into the command.
The snarl deepened, the wolf too distressed to recognise his authority.
Its not going to work, Rothan told him. Not while...
Of course.
"Fetch water," Blake ordered his startled warriors. "And quickly. We need to wash it off!"
If their Alpha's command made little to no sense, it did not stop the nearby wolves from jumping to obey.
Blake turned back to the snapping, snarling ball of matted fur and braced himself against the aroma wafting towards him.
Taking one of the buckets from the returning warriors he tipped it gently over the wolf's filthy body, saturating the pheromones and freeing him from the cloud of fear that so overwhelmed him.
The wolf shuddered as the icy water washed over him but made no effort to resist, his desperate flight having used what was left of his strength.
Try now, Rothan suggested.
Taking a deep breath, Blake drew, not only on his Alpha status, but also the might of his Hunter heritage. "Shift!" he ordered again, the sheer power in that one word making every wolf in the immediate vicinity shudder. If any of them had been in wolf form, there was no doubt they would have obeyed immediately.
The wolf froze, his flanks trembling with the effort to resist, but he was too weak and, with a mournful whine, his bones began to crack and re-form, leaving behind the form of a young man, lying defeated on the cold cavern floor.
"He's wearing clothes," Marcus murmured in shock.
"Yes, he is," Blake said grimly. Two more buckets followed, gently washing away the miasma of filth that had defined the prisoner for so long. "Can you smell it now?"
"I -- But --" Marcus sputtered.
Blake nodded, seeing the shock in his Beta's eyes. "The pheromones weren't there to keep an Alpha out. They were there to keep one in."
"Who is he?" Marcus whispered as the man pulled himself onto his knees, tucking himself into the wall in a last act of self-defence. Blinking rapidly as though waking from a nightmare, he stared at the wolves surrounding him.
"there's only one person it could be." Blake glanced at his Beta. "Marcus, meet Kaden Hallow - "
" - The true born heir of Elmwood," Marcus murmured behind him, disbelief etching his words.
The man flinched at the sound of their voices, shrinking further into the corner. "You're an Alpha?" he asked in a harsh whisper. His voice had a dry from lack of use and raw from screams that had vanished into the impenetrable rock, unheard and ignored.
"I am."
The man stared at him for the longest moment, distrust clear in his eyes. His head swayed from side to side in denial and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Rogue tricks," before pressing himself further into the wall.
Blake heard Marcus call for the Doc over the pack link, but he tuned it out, his focus on the man whose gaze had shot up to meet him, the tortured expression was painful to behold.
The last time he'd looked into eyes that had held such pain and mistrust they had been emerald green and framed by a head of red, tangled curls. A remnant of the pheromones floated upwards and curled into his nostril - he flinched, firmly burying his own pain until he had a moment alone.
"You're not rogue?" There was a plea in Kaden's voice, the sound of a man who had been deceived one too many times.
"I'm not," Blake confirmed softly. "I'm the Alpha of the Blackridge pack." He squatted against the cool rock wall, trying not to shudder as tiny wisps of the pheromones flitted past his nose. "Our pack doctor is on the way. You can go outside, where the air is clear. You'll be able to scent the truth for yourself."
"You swear it?" Kaden's eyes were full of suspicion, but Blake could already feel his wolf growing stronger as the Alpha scent reasserted itself.
"By the Moon Goddess herself," he said solemnly and they waited together, each lost in their own thoughts as they shook off the chemical fear that had plagued them.
"Then, why don't you just kill me?" Kaden's voice, hoarse and filled with bitterness, wavered as he stared at the ground - his eyes averted from the, much larger Alpha, bracing himself for an imagined attack.
"Why would I do that?" Blake asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He sensed the young Alpha-to-be testing him, searching for a reason withdraw further. " You're the heir our neighbouring pack, I have no dispute with you."
Your father however... Rothan added firmly.
"Heir?" Kaden laughed bitterly. "I'm the heir to nothing. A rogue. Nothing more."
Startled, Blake exchanged a confused glance with his Beta, who remained close by, fielding the curious looks from their warriors.
"Who told you that?" Blake asked cautiously. Considering how saturated that tiny cell had been, it didn't surprise him Kaden was having trouble differentiating between reality and the nightmare he had been trapped in for so long.
"Only an Alpha can make you rogue," Marcus chipped in, keeping his voice low and soft like he was luring a timid rabbit out into the open. "Unless you left your pack willingly... which I doubt," he added under his breath.
"Yes." The laugh ripped through the cavern, a clear and internal pain weaving through his tuneless chuckles like shattered glass. "My Alpha... my father." He finally raised bloodshot eyes to meet the Beta's concerned gaze. "My father did this to me!"
Blake's lack of reaction caught Kaden's attention and he examined the Alpha with distrustful eyes. "You knew?" he guessed flatly.
"I had my suspicions your disappearance wasn't as simple as they made it sound," Blake confirmed with a slow nod. "But, I must admit, I believed you to be long dead."
"You didn't say anything!" Marcus accused silently over their link.
"I had no proof my suspicions were correct," Blake shrugged.
Marcus shook his head, staring at the ragged prisoner with enormous pity. "But what is he doing here? Why would Syrus tell him he's a rogue, then not follow through?"
"Only for the cruellest reason," Blake replied grimly. "The fear pheromones only work on those with Alpha blood. As a rogue, he'd still have all his strength, speed, not to mention his wolf... and they'd have no way of controlling him, or any guarantee they could keep him contained."
Marcus bit back a distressed growl. "But... why keep him alive at all?"
"Good question."
"Insurance," Kaden answered for him. "Leverage. Take your pick. Something for them to use if Father ever changed his mind about his new heir..."
The two wolves turned to stare at him once more - Marcus in open surprise, Blake in faint amusement. He'd momentarily forgotten the Alpha trick of listening in to foreign pack-links.
"Sorry." Kaden's brow furrowed as he registered that they hadn't spoken out loud. "I couldn't help but overhear. Bad habit, I've forgotten the habit of tuning it out - the rogues don't link very often, but when they did I could hear them through the walls... my only source of amusement, for a while." He shrugged. "I guess my father taught me something useful before he replaced me.
Are you sure I'm not rogue?" He seemed confused by the prospect.
Marcus let out a soft exhalation of distress, a look of unfathomable pity on his face, and he spun round abruptly with the intention of hurrying up Doc's arrival.
Swiping his hand across his dirt streaked face, Kaden stared in confusion at the moisture left behind on his fingers, unaware of the tears that rolled freely down his face. "Huh, look at that," he murmured. "I didn't think I could still do that."
I think we've found our evidence, Rothan observed quietly as he watched Kaden mourn the last years of his life.
Blake swallowed thickly, averting their eyes from his private grief. Yes, Blake thought, his expression grim. Evidence... and a call to war.