Chapter 16 The crack
Chapter Sixteen
The Crack
Writer's POV
The training grounds were alive with movement and sounds. Blades flashed beneath the open sky as Prince Ryder moved among the young warriors, his focus sharp. Dust was coming up under their boots, sweat was on their skin and the air stank of iron and exertion. Ryder's brown hair was tied back, his sleeves rolled up and his royal bracelet caught the light each time he lifted his sword. He moved with calm ease correcting stances and pushing harder than one expected.
"Again," Prince Ryder's voice was clear. "If you lower your guard like that then you won't live long enough to regret it."
The young warrior nodded, raised his sword and attacked. Ryder blocked, turned and knocked the blade aside in one motion. The boy stumbled back, breathing heavily.
"Strength without thought is of no use," Ryder said. “Use your head.”
The warriors listened. They respected him, not because he was a prince, but because he fought with them, and never asked for less than the best. The one place where Ryder felt free was the training grounds.
That peace was broken when there were slow footsteps coming across the edge of the grounds. Elder Veyra appeared - dressed in dark robes and his scarred face in a knowing look. He stopped where everyone could see him. The sound of swords slowed. Eyes shifted. Ryder did feel the change before he turned.
He did not bend the knee before the elder.
"Well," Elder Veyra said scornfully. If this is not the future king playing warrior.
Ryder's expression did not change. “This is training,” he said. “Something important.”
Veyra’s thin smile curled. “Important, yes. Though one would think that a prince has better things to do than to sweat in the dirt with boys."
A few warriors stiffened. Ryder stepped forward.
“They are soldiers,” Ryder said. "And they deserve a leader who knows how to fight."
Veyra looked round: his eyes were sharp. "Or a leader who likes power too much. Barking orders, showing off strength."
Ryder's grip tightened over his sword. “Say what you mean.”
“Oh, I am,” Veyra replied. “I worry. A prince so full of rage, so proud of his blade Is that the kind of king that we want?"
The words hit where they were intended. Ryder took another step closer in. "You question me in front of my warriors"
"I question you because I have to," Veyra said calmly. "Arrogance destroys kingdoms."
Something snapped.
Ryder's sword came up in a flash, stopping a few hairs from Veyra's throat. Gasps were rippling across the grounds. Every warrior froze. The blade hung, near enough for Veyra to feel the cold edge.
"Don't push me," said Prince Ryder low down. “Not again.”
For a moment, no one moved. Veyra's eyes widened in fear breaking through his calm mask. Then Ryder lowered the sword and stepped away, forcing himself to breathe.
Veyra straightened his robes and his voice was loud and shaken. "See?" he said, turning to the warriors. "This is the temper of your prince, A man who raises his steel against an elder."
Ryder said nothing. His chest heaved out with anger burning behind his eyes.
"Training is over," Ryder said finally. “Leave.”
The warriors obeyed; they looked uneasy as they went. Soon the grounds were silent and empty.
That night a secret meeting took place deep in Elder Veyra's chambers. Elder Veyra sat at a long table with anger clearly written all over his face. One by one a few elders joined him and their faces were tense.
"He almost attacked me," Veyra said. “In public.”
One elder frowned. “That is serious.”
“It is useful,” Veyra replied. “The prince is reckless. Too proud. Too dangerous to rule.”
Murmurs spread. Heads nodded.
"We can't wait," one of the elders said. “He will destroy balance.”
Veyra bent forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Then we act. For the good of the throne.”
The torches burnt low while treason took shape in the dark.
Two weeks later
Chapter 18 - Blood at the Border
Slowly crept Dawn over the northern border where the Lycan land brushed too close to Redcreek territory. The forest was silent, thick with mist, as a patrol of six Lycans passed between the trees. They went on foot, two or four, awake, their senses on high. The border had been tense for days. It was felt by everyone.
The patrol leader raised a fist to give the indication to stop. He stooped over and placed his hand on the ground. The earth smelled off. Blood stagnated in the air, sharp and fresh.
"Something's off," he muttered.
Before the sound of the words was even completed, the first scream ripped through the trees.
Steel clashed. A body hit the ground. The forest was thrown into a state of chaos.
Shadows came crashing from all around. The attackers were swift, savage and silent. The Lycans fought back, claws ripping bark, blades flashing. One fell, then another. Blood splattered leaves and trunks, falling into the ground.
A Lycan warrior turned and his throat was cut. He dropped silently. Another attempted to move sideways but a blade struck his spine. He collapsed, shaking.
It was over in moments and the fight was over.
Six Lycans lay dead amongst roots and stones. Their blood was pooled in the dirt, black and thick. The attackers stood still catching their breath.
One of them was kneeling down and wiping his blade clean. "Make it look right," he said.
They worked fast. Redcreek symbols were incised on the bark of trees. A broken necklace with the Redcreek crest was found near one of the bodies. Deep claw marks were dragged across the ground to recreate a werewolf struggle.
When they finished, the attackers disappeared into the forest, and silence reigned.
Hours later, another pack of Lycans arrived.
They found the bodies.
Shouts rang out. Anger followed shock. The sight was brutal. Their brothers lay butchered close to enemy land, with signs pointing in only one direction.
"This is a declaration," one guard said.
Word traveled quickly.
By midday, the palace was hot with anger. Prince Ryder was in the great hall as the report was read out. His face was still but his hands were clenched at his sides.
"All signs point to Redcreek" the messenger said. "Their marks were left behind."
Murmurs spread. Elder Veyra's eyes shone.
"So it begins," he said. "The wolves have gone beyond the line."
Ryder stepped forward. "Evidence can be planted."
Veyra turned to him. "You doubt our fallen?"
"I doubt lies," Ryder replied.
King Magnus arose from his throne and his expression was hard. "Six Lycans are dead. Blood had been shed at our border."
"And rushing to war will spill more," Ryder said.
Magnus slammed his hand down. "Enough. I will not ignore this."
Across the lands, Redcreek felt the shift before the news came. Olivia was by the pack house, when the messengers came running. Their faces were pale.
"Alpha," one said to her father. "Lycans are accusing us."
Her heart sank.
"They say we slaughtered their patrol," the messenger went on.
Gasps followed. Anger flared. Olivia felt heat rise in her chest.
"That's a lie," she said. "We would never do that."
Her father's face darkened. "Whether we did or not may not matter."
That night, there were fires along the border. Lycans gathered. Werewolves armed themselves. Fear spread like smoke.
In a solemn, quiet chamber was Elder Veyra smiling. His plan had worked. The crack had widened and was now filled with blood.
Deep in the distance, Olivia stared at the forest, her chest was tight. She felt Ryder through the bond, sharp and distant and heavy with anger and pain.
War was no longer a threat.
It was coming.