The Sanction

Chapter 14

Graeme smelled blood on the wind long before he arrived at the village. Everything was destroyed. A thick cloud of smoke and ash concealed the first brush of dawn that staggered awake beyond the trees. The breaths he heaved burned his nostrils and forced the pain in his chest to expand. He was too late.

At his back the handful of men he selected sat upon their mounts in stoic silence for the moment – until one of them dismounted and stumbled upon a pile of wood ash not ten feet away. Graeme did not look at him as his bellow of anguish echoed in the overcast sky. His tears were his alone, just as the agony that sliced through Graeme was not to be shared. He nudged his mount forward and took his time about walking through the debris. The men did not venture.

At the center of the village where the old stone well still stood, a pile of bodies was left to burn. Graeme noted dismembered forms of men, women and children. Smoke still rose from the heap where embers had yet to extinguish. Weak, he struggled to keep his back erect as he continued on. On the outskirts of the village he noted several haphazard tracks in the blood-stained earth. Ever so slowly he returned to the men, only to find the few of them who indeed had families there searching for the bodies of loved ones.

For two days he had waited upon an attack that never came. That was when he suspected she had been captured. The Hunters would not risk more of their numbers if they already retrieved what they marched for in the first place. Numb, he considered the men before him and felt the weight of their despair burdened upon his shoulders. They did not know why the Hunters had done this, did not understand the need for war when thus far, they had been living in relative peace with the Covens. Still, they faced him, ready for battle. And he would risk their very lives for his vampire mate.

It was the worst betrayal.

"Those of you who have lost a child, or a woman, find your dead and bury them. And if you do not wish to continue this ride, find your families at the coast and protect them there."

They hesitated, each pair of eyes asking the question no man would voice. Graeme presented them with his back and nudged his mount forward, barely relieved when it was discovered that only ten had turned back. With fifty strong, he pressed on, thankful that more than a hundred and fifty had been left behind to defend the castle. Close to noon they arrived at the Grampian Pass. The sharp rock at the edge of the cliff face was stained with blood - Hunter and Were. Graeme felt his heart thunder just a little faster as a glimmer of hope flickered in his chest. He dismounted swiftly and stepped forward. The tightly woven rope that had held the bridge taut was cut clean through. He glanced into the valley and considered the many sharp rocks beneath. Slowly, he shrugged the fur from his shoulders and handed over the reins of his mount.

His men said nothing as they watched him make the precarious descent. The chilled wind slapped hair into his face and eyes, and with each leap lower he paused to gently sniff the air-currents. Twenty feet from the ground, he paused to listen. There was nothing save his own ragged breaths of anxiety. The final leap brought him to his knees, and when he stood it was to survey the rocks. He moved slowly, half afraid of what he might find when his search was over, his eyes and ears sharp. Weakly, in the silence, there was a muffled groan. Claws extended, he moved forward, scenting the wind until he came upon the body of Rhys. The man lay upon his side, back bare to the cold chill of the wind.

"Rhys!" he exclaimed, so relieved that his voice trembled. He rushed toward him and reached forward to clutch his shoulder. "Rhys, by the gods I thought you were dead!"

Moss green eyes flecked in gold considered him, unfocused and dazed for a second before recognition cleared the fog from his face. "Graeme?"

"Aye, tis me."