Moon Chosen

  "The male werewolf can control the mind and body of his chosen female," Greg reiterated.

  I blinked at him. "Like mesmerizing control or something?"

  He shook his head. "No, something far deeper and more primal. The male can tame the wolf inside his female and render her completely within his will."

  I pointed at where Erik had gone. "And he's had this power over me for how long?"

  "Since you were bound to each other," he informed me.

  My eyes narrowed at the servant. "If that's true then why hasn't he used it before?"

  Greg smiled. "My Master is not such a man who would abuse his power, particularly when it concerns his mate."

  I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the crest of the hill. Erik had that ability all along. He didn't have to put up with any of my sass. One word and I'd be his unwilling slave.

  But he hadn't used it. He'd taken the high road and put up with my constant escapes and dead weight in all our strange adventures.

  I snatched Greg's arm and pulled him up the hill. "Come on! If he's going to get himself killed it sure as hell isn't going to be alone, male-dominance hypnotism or no male-dominance hypnotism!"

  Greg smiled as I dragged him to the edge of the town. "As you wish, Sophie."

  In a few minutes we crested the hill and had our first good view of the town. The metropolis stood on a flat plain that stretched over most of the island. Tall trees were all I could see of the edge of the town. The buildings were made from the dark stone that made up the soil of the island. Most of the houses were half the size of my former apartment, but some were as big and had a second floor of wood built atop its rocky ground floor. Glass windows looked out on the dirty and rock-covered streets where the rock was used to keep the dust to a minimum.

  There was no zoning code in place, so houses were to be found between the workshops. Streets ran at odd angles and created triangular and square blocks. Shops with open fronts advertised their wares, everything from cooking pots to cooking. Most of the imprints of cart wheels followed a trail to the mouth of the large, open hanger doors. The other tracks led into the city down a wide street that led past what appeared to be mostly shops. The wide thoroughfare was broken into two by a small circle with a large fountain in the center. The length of the road was a hundred yards, and was intersected every ten or twenty yards by other roads that were either perpendicular or at an angle to the main road. People walked to and fro with baskets in their arms or boxes on their broad shoulders. They bought, sold, and traded away the time.

  The overall feel of the place was a bustling metropolis that was one railroad line away from the wrong side of the tracks. The cookware was primitive, homemade stoneware and the food resembled stuff you'd find at an authentic Renaissance Fair. The people were dressed in plain dresses and shirts and pants. Many of them lacked knowledge of a bath, what with their dirty skin and greasy hair. Only a few pale figures appeared clean, and their raised noses led me to believe they were the owners of the larger homes.

  I leaned towards Greg who stood beside me still in my clutches. "Do all the islands look like this one?" I whispered.

  "Many more are far worse in appearance. The ground is poor and communication with the outside world is very limited," he told me.

  "Geez, I wonder why they're unhappy. . ." I murmured. My eyes swept over the

  "I believe some of their unhappiness comes from a more recent source," Greg added as he nodded towards one of the nearby warehouses.

  I followed his nod and my eyes fell on the nearest wall of the close warehouse. It ran for a hundred feet and was noticeably askew. It leaned inward and forced the wood roof down at an odd, unsteady angle.

  "Was the architect lopsided?" I suggested.

  Greg shook his head. "It stood straight and proud on my last visit here two years ago."

  "So the earthquakes?" I guessed.

  He nodded. "Yes."

  His eyes swept over the town, and I followed his example. My gaze settled on the close houses and shops, and for the first time I noticed the subtle damage the tremors had caused. Hairline cracks grew up from the ground and ran a yard up many of the stone walls of the buildings. Loose stones lay in stacks just off the road and in front of the businesses, fallen from the structures and broken from the road. People scrambled over smaller rubble in the streets, and carts pulled by animals swerved around it.

  "The damage spoken of by the Councilmen," Greg explained to me.

  "But why are they just leaving all that junk there?" I asked him.

  He shook his head and changed our positions so he was the holder and I the held. "That is a question to be answered later. For now we must catch up to the Master."

  "Halt and state your business," a sharp voice barked at us. We looked to our left and found ourselves confronted by a Guard. He had hidden himself behind a stack of boxes near an alley opening. His worn cloak and ugly demeanor told us he wasn't one of Teagan's men, but of the Gethin squad. In his hand was a long spear that was as tall as him. "Come on, out with it!" he ordered us.

  Greg bowed his head. He grabbed the back of mine and forced me to do the same. "We are humble travelers who wish to partake of the Market," he informed the Guard.

  I chanced a glance up. The ugly man's eyes swept over us and stopped on my cloak. He nodded at my attire. "That doesn't look humble. Where did you come from?"

  "From Ariadne. It was on sale and my wifey just couldn't resist it," Greg replied. He squished me against his side and grinned at the Guard. "She has such a weakness for fine cloth, don't you, dear?"

  I slapped a smile on my face and nodded. "Y-yeah, I just can't resist them."

  The Guard frowned, but jerked his head down the road. "All right, move along."

  Greg bowed his head. "A thousand thanks, kind sir." He set his hand on my lower back and pushed me forward.

  We walked ten yards before I whipped my head to Greg. "'Wifey?'"

  He smiled and bowed his head to me. "It was an honor to be your husband for a short time."

  "Uh-huh, and what was with that guy, anyway? He sounded like he had his spear up his ass," I commented.

  Greg's good humor slipped from his face and he shook his head. "I don't know. The Guards are meant to keep the peace among the islands, but now they seem to be taking an active role in policing the visitors."

  "So what you're saying is they've gotten really pushy and nosy?" I guessed.

  "Correct."

  "You think Teagan knows about this?"

  "He didn't appear to be under the direct command of Teagan," Greg pointed out.

  I stuck out my tongue. "So Gethin's goons really are making trouble out here, but why? It only makes everybody from Wolf Island look bad, even him."

  "Perhaps we will find his purpose here, but first we must find the Master," Greg suggested.

  The 'Master' was deep in the crowds of shoppers some twenty yards ahead of us and growing. We dove into the bustling business district and followed him. Peddlers with their wares scooted out of the shops and shoved their trinkets in our faces.

  "Metal pots! The finest in the islands!" one cried.

  "Fresh fish! You won't find a better catch!"

  "Paintings! Beautiful oil paintings!"

  I started back when a thin candle nearly went up my nose. The seller was a thin-nosed fellow with beady eyes. "Scented candles for the lovely lady?" he offered.

  Greg shoved the man to the side and pushed me forward. "Not at the present," he replied.

  "Don't bother the visitors," a rough voice spoke up. We turned and found another Gethin Guard close at hand.

  The scent shopkeeper clutched his bottles of perfume to his chest and shrank from the Guard. His outward appearance showed fear, but his eyes told me all about his hatred for the Guard. "Of course, sir. I didn't mean any offense."

  "Then get back to your stall," the Guard barked. The scent man bowed his head and stepped backwards into his little hovel of a shop. The Guard turned his displeasur
e on us. "Go on! Keep walking!"

  We hurried on our way after Erik. "Can this place get any worse?" I whispered.

  Me and my big mouth.

  CHAPTER 5

  We had our troubles, but Erik was in for far worse. He reached the fountain thirty yards ahead of us and stopped. The fountain had a howling wolf statue in the center, but no water bubbled from the rocks at its feet. There were large cracks in the statue and the base of the fountain. There was also more than peddling going on in the small circle. A man stood on the wide edge of the fountain pool and held his hands above his head.

  "Citizens of lovely Market Island, I plead for your attention!" he called to the scarce crowds around him. "We must throw off the yoke of those on the large island and install a better government! One that cares about us! One that doesn't send these ruffians cloaked as Guards to disturb our peace!"

  A man seated on the fountain near him sneered at the crier. "And you'll be that government, is that it?"

  The crier shook his head. "I am not worthy, but there are others who are prepared! They will be ready to take up the mantle of our oppressors and guide us to a better tomorrow!" he insisted.

  "One filled with milk and honey, eh?" the other man quipped.

  The men's back-and-forth caught the attention of many of the marketers. A crowd of three dozen filled the small circle and listened to the argument.

  "No, one filled with land!" the crier announced. The word brought forth a hum of excitement through the crowd. "Land and opportunity! Wouldn't you all like to be free of this eternally foggy and to know the outside world?"

  "We can't be without the fog," a woman from the crowd spoke up.

  The man grinned and jumped along the fountain edge until he stood in front of her. He knelt down and held up a finger. "Ah, but what if I was to tell you the fog wouldn't be gone, but would encompass more land than it does now." He straightened and raised his arms above him. "Wouldn't some of you like to own good land by the lake shore?"

  "Yes!"

  "Here here!"

  "The lords on Wolf Island would never let that happen," the man spoke up.

  "Then let's get rid of the lords! Let's get rid of all the men on the Council and appoint a new leader!" the crier yelled.

  The crowd murmured among themselves, and I didn't like the tone. Far too many people whispered in agreement with the agitator.

  "But who would replace them?" one of the crowd wondered.

  "Anybody we'd like! A citizen from our fair island, or a branch from the royal family that hasn't rotted at the trunk!" the crier suggested.

  The second man stiffened and stood. He pointed a finger at Erik. "Isn't that one of those rotten ones you were speaking about? Find the courage to tell him about your revolution to his face!"

  All eyes turned on Erik. He stood tall and met the eyes of the man who advocated usurping his family. "I'd argue against your suggestion," he commented.

  The crier slapped his thigh and laughed. "You would, wouldn't you? Just like a rat to cling to the ship to the last!" Many in the crowd nodded their head and the people pressed close against Erik.

  Erik shook his head. "It's not for my sake that I speak. If you want new leaders you can elect them now. Revolution only leads to unnecessary bloodshed."

  "Just yours!" someone in the crowd shouted.

  I noticed tow Guards push their way through the crowds towards the fountain. The crier hopped along the edge of the fountain base and his voice carried clear across the circle. He pointed an accusing finger at the Guards as they were bogged down by the thick, packed crowds.

  "Look! Here comes his Guards! They care nothing for us! Do we want to wait for these heartless foes to talk more while our houses crumble and our people are killed?" He gestured with both hands to the cracked fountain behind him. "This was a symbol of our prosperity, and now it's a symbol of our despair. How many more wolves-werewolves-must perish before our 'leaders' do something about it?"

  "The earthquakes won't be returning," Erik assured him.

  The man scoffed. "Am I suppose to believe that? Is any one of us supposed to believe that? Huh?"

  "No!"

  "Not on your life!"

  "Liar!"

  The man stood tall and, with a grin on his face, he gestured to the crowd. "You see you have no voice here, my lord, and seeing as how you are an unwelcome trespasser I say we throw you in the Braille! What do you say, fellow citizens? Shall we imprison our first traitor to the islands?"

  "Aye!

  "Hurrah!"

  "Disburse at once!" one of the Guards shouted.

  "You disburse!" someone shouted.

  "Yeah, go away! Leave us alone!" another joined in.

  The Guards tried to put their spears at the ready, but the mob jumped them. With cries of terror the Guards disappeared beneath the angry swarm of people. The Guards were shoved through the people and they reemerged on the outskirts of the crowd far from their original spots. They were battered, bruised, and bloodied. Two people in the crowd waved the spears in the air.

  "Freedom!" they shouted.

  "Freedom!" the crowd answered.

  With those cries of war the crowd swelled over my mate and engulfed him in their pawing hands and gnashing words. Ropes were produced and Erik was pinned against the edge of the fountain. I rushed forward, but Greg caught me.

  "We can do nothing," he told me.

  I thrashed and pulled in his grasp. "We can do something, and that's better than nothing!" I snapped at him as I turned back to the crowd.

  Erik did nothing to stop the mob. They yanked his arms behind his back and wrapped a metal clasp around his neck. The leader of the rebellion laughed and pointed at Erik.

  "The pretty dog has a nice collar, doesn't he?" he shouted over the howls of sadistic glee from the crowd.

  Erik's eyes flickered to Greg. Greg grabbed my upper arms and gently pulled me away from my mate. I scowled at the servant and renewed my efforts to free myself from his grasp, but he held tight and we moved farther away from Erik.

  "Let me go! He needs our help!" I ordered the servant.

  Greg shook his head. "What he wishes is more important, and he wishes for you to be safe."

  I scowled and whipped my head back to Erik. My eyes met his and I felt my control over my body fail me. My eyes widened and I shook my head. He was using that damned male wolf power over me. "No! I won't-" My words caught in my throat. I couldn't speak nor move on my own.

  Greg pulled me away from the mob and down one of the streets that ran diagonal to the main thoroughfare. The crowds thinned to nothing, but still we kept going. We were several blocks away before I regained control over my body. My limbs tensed and I flexed my fingers. I tore myself from Greg's grasp and stumbled forward, but caught myself before I fell. I spun around to face him and my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

  "What the hell was that about? Why the hell didn't you let me save him?" I growled.

  Greg shook his head. "Nothing good would have come from fighting them," he argued.

  "Nothing good? Erik would still be with us if we would've stood up for him!" I countered.

  "You don't understand. The citizens here are angry. Their homes are broken, or worse, and they barely tolerate outsiders in the best of times. The Master chose wisely when he decided to let them take him," Greg insisted.

  I threw my arms up and turned away from him. "So what do we do now, huh? We're in the middle of an island that hates our guts and Erik's been taken hostage like he's some sort of a criminal!"

  "There are those loyal to the family on the island. My Master had planned for us to stay at the home of an old friend of the family. He will be able to counsel us on what we can do next," Greg told me.

  I growled and kicked my foot against one of the rock houses. What I got for my trouble was a sore foot. The pain brought some sense into me. I sighed and dropped my arms to my side.

  "Where does this guy live?"

  Greg nodded to down the str
eet. "Follow me."

  Greg guided me through the crooked streets away from the crowded, bloodthirsty marketplace and to a calmer part of the island. The shops and squat homes fell away and were replaced by small fields of wheat and fruit trees. The houses grew larger, and some were even adorned with flowers and green yards. Many of the homes rose to two or three stories, and their large windows and spacious lanes showed the riches of their owners.

  The old servant led me to one of the larger homes about four miles outside the town. A large, hard-packed dirt lot lay in front of the home, and a gable-roof stable stood to the left. The house had two floors and a large, covered wrap-around porch.

  A wagon with a pair of beautiful chestnut horses stood in front of the open stable doors. Through the entrance I could see stalls filled with more fine horses. Atop the wagon sat man of sixty with graying hair at his temples. It was the calm Councilman I'd seen before.

  Beside the wagon was a woman of forty. She wore the customary dress and had a hand on the seat of the wagon. Her lips were pursed and her eyes pleaded at him not to go, but she had a kind face that showed a demeanor that suited her calm husband.

  "You will be safe, won't you?" she begged.

  The man leaned down and clasped her hand in his. "I will, and I should return before nightfall."

  "Master Alwin!" Greg called to him.

  Alwin turned and his eyes widened when they fell on Greg. "Gregory! Where is your master? What news do you bring us?"

  We reached the wagon and Greg shook his head. "Nothing good, I'm afraid. The townspeople have taken my Master to the Braille."

  Alwin frowned and looked off in the distance towards the town. "What can they be thinking?" he murmured. He shook himself and returned his attention to us. "But you must be tired and we shouldn't loiter out in the open like this." He hopped off the wagon and turned to the open stables. "Eva!" A young girl of ten dashed out of the shadows and ran up to him. He bent down and handed her the reigns. "Put the horses back and come in after you're done, understand?"

  She smiled and nodded. "Yes, Papa." The girl led the wagon away.

  I pointed at the girl. "I thought werewolves couldn't have girls," I commented.

  "My adopted daughter," Alwin explained as he turned to me. "She was washed up on the shores some years ago and we took her in, but that is old news. What we need is new." He spread out his arm and turned us towards the large house. "How is everyone at the old place?"