Chapter 17 | Sven

Chapter 17

Sven

MY LITTLE MENACE DIDN’T want me killing her good-for-nothing brother? Fine. I would let Damon live. For now.

Going against Ravinica’s wishes was the surest way to lose her. Obviously I didn’t want that.

I needed some way to vent my frustration, though. As I left Eir Wing Under, my plan formed. I knew just what to do.

My scheme was only adjacent fuckery.

Frustratingly, Grim Kollbjorn popped out of the tunnels behind me shortly after I left Ravinica’s recovery room.

I rolled my eyes at the bear and shook my head. “Really? A guard dog?”

“We can’t have you killing people willy-nilly, wolf. It would only add a rash of shit to Rav’s plate. You know she doesn’t need that.”

Of course she doesn’t need that, oaf. That didn’t make it any easier to hold my tongue and bide my time.

I spent the rest of the night by Grim’s side, asking him what he thought we should do about Damon Halldan.

“Watch him, as you’re wont to do,” Grim answered with a shrug. “What else is there to do?”

“Torture him. Flay his skin from his body. Rope him up and—”

“What else is there to do that won’t kill him ,” he amended.

I frowned. Grim was being difficult. It was a shame, because my rival had always played a worthy good cop to my bad cop. It seemed he wasn’t in the mood this time around.

Raising a finger, I pointed out, “None of the things I mentioned will necessarily kill him, Kollbjorn.”

He grumbled under his breath, “We leave the half-brother alone.”

“For now.”

“Until Ravinica tells us otherwise.”

“You’re pussy-whipped, bear.”

He gave me an expectant look—always cool under pressure, this one. “What did we just say about not adding more shit to our little sneak’s plate?”

I flared my nostrils.

“Besides,” he said, “you’re just as whipped as I am, little wolf. You just bark more.”

After a brief flare-up of anger rolled through me, I couldn’t help but smile at the bear’s barb.

He was learning from the best.

Me.

The next morning, without Grim looming over me like a mountain with eyes, I enacted my plan.

It wasn’t fully fleshed out. It wasn’t even much of a plan as it was more of a vibe of what I needed to do in order to satiate my vexation.

I was wound tight. Ravinica was in no mood to help me with her sweetness and warmth.

After checking on her and finding her studiously reading through tomes, laid up in her gurney, I left Eir Wing Under and wandered the halls and tunnels.

My fieldwork this term was as a patrolman. Every student had to do field duty to make ourselves seem “useful” to the academy.

Mine was essentially a Huscarl-in-training, even though I didn’t plan for a second to join those useless bastards once I graduated from the academy in another term.

No, after what my father Salos had decided—that I was no longer fit to lead the family pack at Vikingrune—I planned to take him on, stake my claim as the true leader of the Torfen pack. That was my future. Not mindless patrolling.

In order to do that, I needed to send a message to my deceitful brethren, who had landed me in a recovery room right next door to Ravinica’s.

I was playing the long con. Bringing Da down to size was not going to be easy, but I had time on my side. Time to learn, time to scheme, and time to execute.

After a quick breakfast in one of the eastern cafeterias, I set out for Gharvold Hall Under. There, I met up with Hersir Axel Osfen and a few other cadets who were scheduled to patrol.

Patrolling sounded like it would be in the jurisdiction of Hersir Jorthyr, the Warden and jailer, but he had too much on his hands being in command of actual Huscarls. Not us peewee trainee cadets.

I was fine with it. I got along better with the stout, bald garrison commander anyway. If I saw Ingvus’ face right now after barging into Ravinica’s recovery room and hauling Corym out last night, I might’ve tried to rip it off. So meeting with Hersir Osfen worked in everyone’s favor.

The burly warrior greeted me with a grunt, arms crossed over his rotund chest. “I heard what happened to the girl.”

I resisted snarling at him.

“How is she?”

“She’ll live. And come out stronger on the other side.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Axel tossed me a small smile, scratching his shiny bald head. “That silver-haired menace is a warrioress, sure as I’ve ever seen one.”

A smirk slipped past my angry facade. “Careful, Hersis. That’s my nickname for her.”

He snorted. “I’m not gonna ask, cadet.” He blinked at me. “How are the other Torfens?”

“Villainous,” I spat, losing my smirk.

Axel frowned. “Shame. They wouldn’t have anything to do with you ending up in the infirmary, would they?”

My face went deadly. “No, of course not. I . . . fell.”

Our eyes locked, both of us knowing I was lying.

I liked Hersir Osfen because he was not an inquisitive man. He did not pry. He never got in the middle of his students’ affairs.

“It is quite dark in these tunnels, cadet.”

“It is.”

We went silent as the other three trainees circled us.

Axel pulled out a piece of paper from beneath his chainshirt. “Sven Torfen, I have you roaming the southwest district.”

Near my family’s den, I thought.

Axel continued, reading down the list. “Eric Morn—”

“Give me the northeast,” I interjected. When all eyes looked at me for interrupting our commander, I added, “Please. Sir.”

Axel’s reddish eyebrows jumped. “That’s Eric Morngandr’s quadrant.”

Morngandr. Snake shifter. I looked over to the slithery cadet named Eric. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Clearly, he could tell by the wrath on my face that I did mind. Shrugging, Eric said, “Any quadrant’s just as good as the next to me, boss. It’s all dark as shit and boring down here.”

Axel frowned. “Spoken like a true Huscarl, Morngandr.”

Eric blushed with embarrassment, looking away, and the Hersir eyed me. “All right, then.” Axel crossed off my name on the list. “Sven, you’re northeast.”

When I nodded, ready to take off to “patrol,” I caught the glint of mischief in the Hersir’s eyes—no doubt because he could see it in mine, too.

“Watch your step in the dark this time around, eh?”

I flashed a smirk. “Sure thing, Hersir.”

The northeast quadrant of campus was the opposite side of where my family den was located. It was home to the cellars of Mimir Tomes, Eir Wing further east, and a congregation of housing units for students past the initiate year.

It was also home to the Lanfen family den.

It was no coincidence the homes of the Lanfens and the Torfens were on opposite sides of campus.

Ever since my father’s time here, and likely before him, our wolf packs had fought. It was a regular Hatfields and McCoys situation, and I had no idea where the hate came from. All I knew was they were the enemy .

Now, I had a reason to hate them. They had shown themselves as my adversaries, in full force, and that couldn’t go unanswered.

My anger was already starting to boil once I made my way east through the tunnels. I reached the central section of the Vikingrune undercity and cut north, staying in the smaller corridors between Mimir Tomes and Eir Wing, away from passing students.

Patrollers were supposed to do exactly that: patrol the grounds of the campus and make sure nothing was afoot. If a fight was breaking out among students, I was supposed to stop it and make a report.

Did we have Huscarls for that job? Allegedly. They seemed more inclined to guard doorways and important people like Gothi Sigmund than actually get their hands dirty with any kind of work .

Student brawls were regular occurrences at the academy. We were all competitive, young, dismissive, and trying to make a name for ourselves. Everyone thought they were better than everyone else. Add that to the frustration of being cooped up underground for weeks on end, and you got a violent concoction of testosterone and anger.

I had a reason to keep my eyes out for any ne’er-do-wells.

No one suspected me of being the ne’er-do-well in question, or the instigator. Not when I was wearing the Hersir dragon-badge on my shoulder that showed I was in the middle of fieldwork.

Students treated badge-wearing students like they were Huscarls, not fellow peers. It made it easy to move around mingling students and passing acolytes, keeping to the shadows away from torchlight.

It also made it easy to slip into the open cave structure of the Lanfen den. I found it empty, because it was the middle of the day and everyone was in their respective classes.

I waited around for a while, choosing my spot behind some pillars of stalagmites beneath the alcove of a gravelly knoll.

The Lanfen den was nearly the same size as the Torfens’, with high ceilings, rough-hewn walls, and multiple rooms and openings that made it easy to roam around in wolf form. Only a few legacy families were rewarded with dwellings of this size.

The boiling of my blood reached a crescendo as I sat there picking my nails, biding my time, and listening.

After more than an hour of waiting, I heard footsteps. Voices. Cordial, laughing, shooting the shit. The voices were echoing off the walls, down the corridors outside the cave entrance.

Peeking around the corner of my pillar, I spied three young men dressed in casual wear, returning from their classes with backpacks strapped to their shoulders.

Not a weapon in sight.

The Lanfens had grown lazy and negligent when they walked around campus, never wearing blades or armor because they always walked in a pack and didn’t need to worry about threats.

Until now.

I recognized the centermost man, the tallest of the bunch, as Raylan Lanfen, the eldest son of patriarch Haldor Lanfen. Haldor had attended the academy around the same time as my father.

Raylan was a third-year, like me. Walking alongside his skinny ass were his twin brothers, whose names escaped me because they’d never meant shit to me.

The trio passed the pillar of my stalagmite without a care in the world. I gauged their footsteps, listening to the echoes of their annoying voices, and then drew a club from my belt. It was more of a baton—a slim, fortified cudgel I opted to bring with me today on my patrolling mission rather than a sword, to give a real Wild West lawman feel.

It also made no sound when I drew it, whereas a sword would have rasped with sliding steel.

I whipped around the side of the pillar, my feet crunching on gravel, and their three faces spun around—

Just as my hand lashed out and slammed the baton across Raylan’s stupid fucking face.

I felt bone shatter. Blood spatter. Teeth fly.

The crash was jarring. Even more when he flew off to the side, crumpling down like a heap of bricks on the ground.

His brothers screamed. One of them was already shifting—

So I moved to him and kicked him in the stomach.

The third one punched me in the spine.

I growled, wincing and bowing my back, and then spun around and swung the baton.

Missed.

The twin roared at me.

I swung again, distracting the Lanfen with the baton, forcing him to skitter back—

While my free hand Shaped a pulling rune and flung gravel from the ground up into his face.

He cried out, hands in his eyes, temporarily blinded.

My baton cracked over his side, once, twice, three times, until I felt his ribs snap.

He staggered as an animalistic growl sounded behind me.

I spun again, all arms and legs and swinging motions—

Just as the remaining wolf lunged at me and latched his jaws around my wrist.

I growled just as loudly as he did, fighting off the pain when he shook his head back and forth, plunging his teeth into my skin and nearly reaching my bones.

The wolf twin was latched on and didn’t plan to let go, while his brother tried to catch his breath behind me, on his knees, clutching his ribs.

I gripped the wolf by the scruff of his neck, hands digging into his fur, and spun him in a circle—

Crashing him into his kneeling brother.

They fell to the ground. The wolf rolled and got up, ready to lunge—

Squealing when I planted my foot on his brother’s throat and put pressure down, ready to snap his gods-damn neck.

The two second-years stared up at me in abject horror, the one under my boot with fearful human eyes, the other with wolfish yellow ones.

Blood trickled down my wrist between my fingers, down to my baton. I twirled it in my hand, trying to take my mind off the multiple wounds I’d suffered from jumping these three alone.

At least the oldest one was fully unconscious from my initial strike.

“Where’s your sister?” I demanded from the wolf.

He shifted into a naked human, on all fours with his dick hanging and a feral glint. “Fuck you, Torfen!”

I frowned. “Not gonna tell me?” My foot squeezed down on his brother’s throat.

He clutched grit and gravel. I saw what he was going to try. So I lifted my foot off his brother’s neck and kicked him square in the jaw, sending him flying.

He landed near his unconscious brother, knocked out.

“Ah!” cried the remaining twin. He tried to roll and get up, but I easily kicked his flailing hands aside and stood over him.

“You gonna play nice, or should I finish the job?” I asked, staring down my nose at the pitiful excuse for a shifter.

“You’d kill a fucking student?”

“In a heartbeat. Look into these eyes, Lanfen. Does it look like I give a shit about you?”

“No. But you give a shit about you , you arrogant fuck. You’d be hung—”

“Already am. The word you’re looking for is ‘hanged.’ Where is your sister, boy? She was with you dumbasses when you chased me through the halls to my den.”

“I’m not going to tell—”

I kicked him viciously in the side, putting him in a fetal position.

After the next kick, realizing I wasn’t messing around, he told.

I didn’t even bother bandaging my wrist. It wasn’t broken, so I’d live with it until my job was done. The blood dripping as I trudged through the tunnels would have led any pursuers right to me, but I didn’t give a fuck.

My adrenaline was pumping. My glee at getting out of the Lanfen den mostly intact made me feel invincible and superior. I’d taken on three of those assholes and only had a scratch and a numb spine to show for it.

Not bad for an hour’s worth of work.

But I wasn’t finished.

My next task needed to be more . . . finessed.

I didn’t want to make Eirik Halldan an enemy, or his three friends. They were worthy opponents, unlike the Lanfens. He was also a Drengr, which meant he was something of a badass himself.

Plus, he was Ravinica’s only sibling she sort of liked.

So I waited again. Longer this time, staying far away from my mark, trusting my instincts.

Eirik and Damon were around each other often these days. It seemed the elder sibling was showing his younger brother the ropes, which for some reason irked me beyond belief because Eirik hadn’t done the same with Ravinica.

She is twice as worthy as this scumbag. I frowned, realizing, Maybe that’s why Eirik is giving Damon more attention. Because he needs it, whereas Ravinica did not. She had us to look out for her.

Shame simmered inside me as I recalled I was not one of the original mates to look after her. I was on the other side of that equation, causing trouble. It was guilt I’d always be fighting to rectify, to show her she meant everything to me now, and things had changed.

I trusted Ravinica, Grim, Magnus, Corym, and Arne more than I trusted Olaf, Edda, or Ulf at this point. My own kin.

Scoffing at that notion, I put my ear to the thin cave wall and listened to the conversation on the other side. The foursome was in the cafeteria, eating together. Like nothing had happened. Like Damon hadn’t poisoned his own sister.

I knew from a quick drive-by that Eirik sat with Damon and his two friends, skinny Talmond and big Gertrude.

After finishing their meals—which made my stomach growl, needing sustenance of my own—I swiftly hid when Eirik left the table and went out alone.

Perfect. One gone.

Damon was attached to his two initiate comrades like they were a human fucking centipede.

The trio exited the cafeteria, down a corridor past me.

So much for stealth and finesse, I thought, stepping into the hall behind them. This is as good as I’m gonna get.

“Hey, you ugly fucks!” I called out.

The trio turned, brows furrowed. I stepped forward, closing the twenty-foot gap to ten feet.

Damon was on edge, hand inching toward the sword strapped across his back. “You’re one of my sister’s mates, aren’t you?”

I drew my baton and hurled it in one fluid motion across the gap, before saying a damn word. It whistled through the air, toward those wide-eyed bastards—

And crashed right into Gertrude’s flat-ass forehead with a heavy thud .

Talmond’s beady eyes turned into saucers. Damon squealed like a bitch as his broad-shouldered girlfriend stumbled back a step with a loud groan and rolling eyes, wobbling on her feet.

Now, was I in the business of hurting women? Bringing violence to them for undue reasons? No. But this was far from an undue reason. Gertrude was a Lanfen, the youngest of the bunch.

With her brain shaken, I sprinted closer in their moment of confusion and what-the-fuck-just-happened expressions.

Gertrude got her bearings, Damon was drawing his sword, Talmond was skittering aside—

And I lunged through the air, shifting to get under Damon’s swinging sword—only catching my empty clothes as they flew through the air from my momentum.

Then I shifted back into a human, catching my stride on my hands and feet, galloping like a feral monster from the deep.

When I got to the trio, I extended into a righteous uppercut that caught Gertrude square in the jaw and toppled that big-boned bitch right where she stood.

As she collapsed, Damon screamed again.

I rolled under his next sword swing, flailing at me like an untrained lout because he’d just seen me destroy his girlfriend.

I slid back to my clothes, gripped my baton and patrol badge in my roll, and met him head-on.

Damon Halldan was a swordfighter.

Not a very skilled one.

I clanked my baton against his clumsy strikes, pressed forward, and brought down the heat on his weapon. The fortified wood of my club overpowered his slower-swinging sword-arm. I knocked his blade aside three times in rapid succession.

With my teeth gritting, I slammed the baton into his arm and he dropped the blade with a wince and a cry.

I spit on his face, yelled out, “We’re not done,” and turned to leave—

Just as Talmond Bitchface finally got his act together and started Shaping a rune at me.

I was gone from the room a second later, turning the corner, leaving them stupefied and in shock.

I could hear Damon’s wailing voice as I made my exit down the hall, echoing against the tunnels.

“Gerty! Gerty! Oh gods, are you all right?!”

I stopped by Eir Wing on the way out, grabbed a hospital gown, and wrapped it around my naked body so I wouldn’t scare anyone with my swinging dick as I made my way through campus.

For good measure, I slapped a bandage around my wrist, torpedoing into one of the nurse’s rooms and scaring the shit out of her.

Dagny gave me a jaw-dropped look as I entered in my birthday suit. I said nothing to her before snatching the gown and leaving her to ogle my ass since the gown stayed open at that end.

I also wrote down something on a piece of paper I tore from a pad, and held onto it as I exited. I made my way through campus like a madman, hearing the voices of students murmur around me:

“Is he okay?”

“Why the hell is he in a hospital gown? Has he gone crazy?”

“I’d say. Look at that wild look in his eyes. I think the wolf’s lost it.”

“They all do, eventually.”

And so on.

I ignored everyone, bee-lining for my family’s den.

When I got there, I dropped the dragon-badge off at the entrance of the Torfen den, as well as the note I’d written in Eir Wing.

It was a simple threat. They would know who it came from once they learned what happened to the Lanfen siblings.

You’re next, traitors.