Bound by Fate (War of the Five Fangs Book 1) Page 2

  Rhys intended to follow him.

  Damon

  A blast of arctic air struck Damon Mooneye square in the face as he paused to chance a glance out over the edge of the Blackcap Mountains, the only thing separating his pack from the rest of the world. The wind was like pure ice on his snout and the terrifying distance to the bottom turned his blood even colder than that. Damon shook his head and shuddered as he turned back to the rest of the wolves who were set to take their Alpha Order vows along with him.

  Damon’s twenty-first birthday had been just days prior, and he’d been ordered by his father, the leader of the Black Claw pack, and their pack elders to join the other Alphas his age in making the journey to the summit of the Blackcap Mountains. There, thousands of feet up on the Obsidian Peak where only the ghosts of their ancestors could hear them, he and his pack brothers would speak the words that would bind them in service to each other and to their pack as protectors of the Black Claws. Then they would make the pilgrimage to Aurora Falls and participate in a melee to determine their rank in the Order.

  As Damon began his slow ascent in the howling wind and whipping snow that swirled around him, the dull sense of terror he’d felt in his stomach turned into a very raw, very real horror.

  I have to get it together, he told himself, nuzzling into his own thick fur coat as protection against the cold. I’m a Mooneye, a direct descendent of the great Valen himself, and a Black Claw too. It’s beyond time I started acting like it. The words weren’t his, though, they were his father’s; words that had haunted Damon for most of his life.

  Up ahead, through the dense curtain of snow, Damon saw his father and younger brother among the long line of wolves, each of them black or black-grey. From where he stood, they looked like ants marching up the side of a hill, but those wolves were without doubt what Black Claws were meant to be: brave, fearless, and powerful. Damon, in his own eyes and in those of many of his pack mates, was none of those things.

  Sighing, he trotted faster through the snow. The very last thing he wanted was to get lost in the blizzard-like conditions. An incident like that would only confirm him as a hopeless coward to the rest of his pack. Damon had been dreading this day for years, for as long as he’d known that he would have to undergo the initiation ritual. Those years of worry might have hardened a braver wolf, but they’d only riddled Damon with anxiety and fear.

  He wasn’t scared of reciting the initiation vows—words had always come easy for him—but the idea of fighting his pack brothers kept him awake almost every night for the last two weeks. In the rare instances that he did fall asleep, he’d jolt awake in a cold sweat, his stomach roiling as if the punch that had just been delivered to it in his nightmare were real. The simple fact was that Damon didn’t need to fight his pack brothers to know where he would end up. He’d accepted long ago that his place was always going to be at the bottom of the ladder.

  “Ah, here he is,” his father, Aeton, said to Thane, Damon’s brother, as Damon trotted up beside them. “Maybe your brother isn’t quite as helpless as I thought.”

  “I doubt that,” Thane said, smirking at Damon over his shoulder. The ridicule of his father and younger brother was yet another thing that Damon had learned to accept. Where they were strong, intimidating, and born to fight, Damon had been born to… Well, he wasn’t sure what, exactly, but he knew the Aurora hadn’t created him for battle.

  “And you call yourself an Alpha, all huddled and scared like a pup at the sight of the mountains,” Thane said with a laugh. “The mountains are our home and we’ve conquered them. They should be afraid of us, not the other way around.”

  “Your brother’s right,” Aeton said to Damon.

  “Of course he is, he always is,” Damon muttered before he had the chance to stop himself. Thane growled at Damon, low and deep, but let it go almost immediately when Aeton fixed his smoldering red eyes on Thane.

  “Be careful with your words, Damon,” Aeton said. “You’re going to need your tongue for the ceremony, so I’d hate to see it torn out beforehand.”

  I wish Thane would do it, Damon thought glumly. Maybe that would save me from joining this damned Order. But there was no use in pleading with his father about this decision, one Damon was convinced was terrible at best and fatal at worst. He’d already wasted more breath than was smart to that end and had only been met with scorn. I hope they get this over quickly, he thought. Maybe if I yield to them they won’t hit me too hard.

  They trudged forward in silence as the snowfall increased. The wind threatened to tear the fur from their skins until at last they came to a great opening in the rocks, a massive crown of blackened, wind and snow-sharpened spires that erupted from the mountainside. Their edges were near translucent and sparkled in the light from the moon. The Black Claws often described the spires at the Obsidian Peak as looking like the very claws their pack was named after. Damon, however, thought they looked like the jaws of hell come to chew him up and spit him out.

  The snow that had collected between the spires was deep and unpacked, caving beneath Damon’s paws and plunging him up to his belly in frigid wetness as he struggled to make his way to the center. Though none of them said anything, Damon felt the mockery of his pack brothers hot on his ears and face. They would all love to see him fall or otherwise make a fool of himself—Damon wasn’t the only one among them who thought his presence for the initiation was a joke.

  “Take your places, everyone, you know what’s expected of you now,” Nero Dawnfall, one of the Black Claw elders, called out from the center of the clearing. Damon didn’t miss the thinly-veiled look of disapproval that Nero threw his way as he passed to sit on his haunches in a circle with the rest of his fellow initiates. Zander and Caius Dawnfall, Nero’s sons, were there to take their vows as well, and each of them gave Damon a look that matched their father’s.

  I don’t belong here. I never have, Damon thought as he looked around at the other wolves. Kai and Ren Greenhill were at his back, both hulking, coal-black wolves who had given the Dawnfall sons quite the test on the training grounds. Then there were Strav and Umber Starfyre, who had somehow grown even larger than the Greenhill wolves had. They all belonged to ancient, proud houses and there wasn’t a single wolf among them who hadn’t been counting down the moons to this very moment.

  Damon, however, had been counting the moons for a different reason. He knew that tonight, with the stars and moon as witness, his old way of life would die. Gone would be the days of his time spent buried in books without worry, reading and writing about all of the great feats of the wolves who had come before him; instead, he would spend his days training and sparring with his pack brothers, preparing for a war that always loomed but never came.

  That was the purpose of the Alpha Order, after all, to fight on behalf of the Black Claw pack. Of course, all of the able-bodied wolves in the pack were trained to fight in the so-called Promised War when it came, but the Alpha Order was different. These wolves were supposed to be an elite unit, one that would be on the front lines of any battle and smash through the ranks of their enemies.

  We remember, Damon thought. They were the words of his pack and they brought a chill to his spine. His father had said them from the time that Damon was a pup, barely able to understand the spoken word, but Damon only now understood what they meant. The Black Claws remembered the way they’d been smashed down by the Silver Fangs more than a hundred years ago. They remembered, thanks to their storytelling tradition, that they were the direct descendants of the First Shifter, born in the light above Aurora Falls, making them the rightful rulers of all of Moonvalley. More than that, they remembered Oberon Mooneye’s betrayal and the weakened position it had left their pack in for decades after.

  Nothing would stop the Black Claws until they truly ruled Moonvalley, as their faith told them they were destined to. Damon found that more frightening than any of the other things about his pack.

  Snow crunched under Nero’s paws as he paced in circl
es at their backs and the tenseness in Damon’s shoulders that he never seemed able to shake multiplied tenfold. There was no going back now. Of course, he could run, but he knew he wouldn’t make it far before his fellow Alphas ran him down and tore him to shreds. The price for desertion of the Order was worse than the price Damon would pay to join it. He shivered.

  “Are you scared?” Nero whispered in his ear, making Damon jump.

  “Y-Yes,” Damon stammered and Nero chuckled.

  “Good. You should be,” he said quietly, so that only Damon could hear. “The coming days won’t be easy for you, pup,” he continued. “For that you have my sympathy.” Before Damon could find the courage to reply, Nero had moved on and left him with the ghost of his words, which bounced around in Damon’s skull like a rock.

  “The vows you are about to take are sacred,” Nero continued, his voice now booming off the rocks around them. “But you have all come here of your own free will, and none of us will force you to say words you don’t believe.”

  That’s a bold-faced lie, Damon thought. If it were true, I wouldn’t be standing here now. He stole a glance at his father and brother, who waited and watched mere meters away, their red eyes smoldering like coals in a fire, saying everything they needed to say without a single word. There was only one choice: Damon could take his vows or he could die.

  “If any of you wish to take back your agreement to this sacred ritual, speak now and you will be released without punishment,” Nero said. “And know that this will be your last chance to do so.” He fell silent and again paced around the ring of wolves, waiting for any of them to speak. Once more Damon looked to his father, hoping against hope that he might relent and let him go, but his father’s face only hardened.

  “Good,” Nero said when no wolf had spoken after a few moments. “Then let’s get started. I’m sure you’ve all rehearsed your words.” He left their ring and joined the other spectators watching along the great stone walls formed from the mountain. Damon took a deep breath to calm himself and keep from stumbling over his words. That would be the last thing he needed now.

  “From the light of wolf and the dark of man,” the young Alphas began their chant, Damon’s voice among them. He’d practiced saying the words for weeks. He had no hope of doing well in fighting, but he could at least do well at reciting his words. “We here have gathered to take our vow,” they continued. Damon’s eyes squeezed shut to forget the world and its consequences swirling around him. “By witness of elders, and by strength of hand, before the First Shifter, we all do bow.

  “Come wind or rain, come love or pain, together we shall stand; Whether man or wolf, whether war or strife, we shall fight until nothing remains but sand; For we are neither cowards nor beggars; we are Black Claws and We Remember,” they finished, their voices echoing in unison around them.

  “Good. You sat as pups, now rise as wolves of the Black Claw Alpha Order,” Nero said and Damon stood with the rest. His heart hammered in his ears, making it hard to hear anything other than its thrumming. This was wrong, all wrong; none of it fit him. He didn’t belong here. It should be Thane sitting in his place and making these vows to uphold the grace and power that was the Black Claw pack, not him. Thane would make their father proud, much more proud than Damon could ever hope to himself.

  “Now march,” Nero shouted and within seconds Damon stood in a strict, straight line with his fellow initiates. From here they would walk, without pause, all the way to Aurora Falls, where Nero would bathe and bless them in the sacred waters.

  Then they would fight.

  As if he were a machine, Damon stepped forward, right then left, right then left, in perfect lockstep with his pack brothers. As they left the crown of the Obsidian Peak, Damon passed his father and brother and was surprised to see a smile on his father’s face. Thane, however, looked less than pleased, almost like he’d been hoping that Damon would fail. Truthfully, Damon had been hoping the same thing.

  The march to Aurora Falls was cold, dark, and silent. By the time they’d reached the foot of the Blackcap Mountains, Damon’s paws were near frozen from the snow and wind. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against his pack mates in the melee at his best physical condition, but with paws he couldn’t even feel, he knew he was doomed. Still, there was another twenty or more miles to go before they reached the Falls and hopefully warmer temperatures.

  It was forbidden to speak during the march, but Damon wished more than anything else he could. He’d gotten the easy part over with but the fighting was still to come. If he could just talk to his father and make him see that this was a mistake in the making, that Damon would be better suited to join the Healer’s Guild with the Black Claw Omegas, they’d all be better off for it.

  It wasn’t totally unprecedented. Several Alphas in Black Claw history had been allowed to pursue roles other than joining the Order, a fact that only Damon seemed to know or care about. It was almost as if, after Oberon’s betrayal more than a hundred years ago, the Black Claws had all decided to erase any sign of weakness from their collective history.

  This would all be different if I wasn’t the heir to the pack, Damon thought as he marched on. That was the sticking point and always had been. The example Alphas in Black Claw history who Damon could point out to make a case for himself weren’t the children of their pack leader and thus weren’t expected to live up to that role. He tried to convince himself that once the melee was over and his wounds had healed up things would get better. As much as the Black Claws talked about war coming, the entirety of Moonvalley Lake had lived in peace for longer than Damon had been alive so he doubted he’d ever see combat. Still, that didn’t make him feel much better.

  When after what seemed like days they reached the Whisperwood, the dense, dizzying forest that surrounded Aurora Falls, Damon was convinced that he was going to die in this initiation. Maybe that’s the point, he thought. Maybe the best way for them to get rid of their weaklings is to weed them out like this. The temperature hadn’t really gotten any better, which didn’t help Damon’s mood.

  The group emerged out of the wood a few moments later and were greeted by the beauty of Aurora Falls in the moonlight. It’d been a long time since Damon had last been here, and he’d almost forgotten how breathtaking the area was. Large, rolling hills spread out before them, concealing the water that could be heard for miles crashing down on the rocks far below.

  Still silent, the group of initiates wound around to the north west to a small outcropping in the rock that led down to the bottom of the Falls. The rest of the wolves remained at the top, forbidden from being present for the ritual. Damon felt dizzy looking down, so he had to keep his head raised as he made his way down and breathed a sigh of relief when the pebbles that made up the bank met his paws. The relief was short lived.

  Nero waded out into the waters until they reached his stomach. He sat on his haunches.

  “Line up!” he shouted, and Damon’s pulse quickened as he followed the Dawnfalls, Greenhills, and Starfyres to form a line in front of Nero. One by one they’d kneel before him, he’d bathe them with the water of the Falls, and then give them his blessing. When and if they’d all received it—though rare, sometimes wolves were denied—the fighting would begin. Zander went first, and though Damon couldn’t hear the words Nero said to his son over the noise of the Falls, it seemed short. Caius came next. Then Strav and so on, until only Ren Greenhill stood in front of Damon. Ren’s blessing was over so quickly that Damon barely realized it was his turn. He stepped forward with a gulp as Nero fixed his gaze on him.

  “Congratulations,” Nero said, a hint of a smile on his face.

  “It’s not over yet,” Damon said and Nero chuckled.

  “No, no it isn’t,” he said. “Kneel.” Damon did as he was told and felt his heart hammering in his throat. Nero said something but Damon only heard mumbling because he was too focused on the fear roiling in his stomach. Cold water splashed over his head, which made him jump.

&nbs
p; “Stand,” Nero commanded and Damon did. “Welcome to the Order,” Nero continued and Damon stepped away to join his pack brothers waiting on the bank. Above, Damon found his father and brother staring down at him. He couldn’t be sure but his father seemed almost proud. Together the initiates climbed up the outcrop and joined the other wolves—they didn’t dare fight or shed blood in the water. Instead, they formed a ring at the lip of the Falls and Nero took the center, gazing at each of them. Damon’s heart hammered in his ears and his breathing turned labored.

  “Look around you. These are your brothers, the only ones who matter,” Nero said. “You’ve all been accepted into the Order. Now it’s time for you to prove your worth.” He stepped out of the ring and joined the other wolves.

  “Let the melee begin!” Nero shouted and before Damon had the chance to react, a blinding pain seized him along with a sickening crunch in his ears. He crumpled to the ground as everything around him went dark.

  Rhys

  The air outside was cold, unusually so for this time of the year this far south, but Rhys paid it no mind as he slipped out of the Silver Fang den entrance and into the night. The Rangers were already far ahead of him and he didn’t want to let them get any further away.

  “What are you doing?” a voice called after him, making Rhys freeze in his tracks. He turned to find Kaster’s silhouette in the light from the den.

  “Go to bed, Kaster,” Rhys hissed. “Pretend like you never saw anything. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.”

  “You’re really going to sneak off after the Rangers when you’re in heat and the Black Claws are running around unchecked? If you leave here, I’ll go right to Juno and tell him everything, I swear I will.”

  “And you think he’ll take your word over mine?” Rhys asked.

  “Why wouldn’t he? You’re a troublemaking Omega and I’ve never given him any reason to look at me sideways,” he said and Rhys stared at him. Though he was angry with Kaster, he also was impressed by this rare show of courage from him. “Rhys, please, don’t do this, I’m begging you,” Kaster said, his golden eyes flickering in the dim light. If Rhys didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that Kaster was crying. So much for courage, Rhys thought.