I growl low in my throat, then move forward. They will be free.

So many chained in mind and body. They sit without moving, their eyes unblinking as the rest of the jingoist camp goes through the nightly routine of setting up camp and cutting down trees to create ladders.

But caution holds me back from going to the enslaved. Instinct, perhaps.

I haven’t come this far by ignoring that small whisper.

But the helplessness I have when faced with unbreakable chains comes out in seething blackness from the depths of my soul and branches out from my feet in shadowy tendrils.

“Roland?” Heather whispers, her voice bringing me back to the present.

My breathing is harsh in my ears and when I run my tongue over my teeth, I find they are elongated into sharp points. Fur tingles as it sprouts from my arms, legs, neck, and face. My muscles swell and bones shift as my fingers curl into claws and my nose grows to encompass the fangs poking from my lips.

Heather touches my arm, and I look down at her. “What’s the plan?”

I hang my head. “The dragons. We free the dragons.”

She meets my gaze head on, not challenging, just searching. “I’m glad I didn’t have to beat some sense into you.”

My jaw drops just slightly as I take the clench in her jaw and the fire in her silver eyes. Sometimes I forget just how strong this soft-spoken Shifter is.

I grin, not bothering to hide it since it’s never bothered her. “You going to keep me in line?”

She huffs out a breath, something wild and filled with life burning in her gaze that reminds me of the warm embrace of the moon. “Someone has to,” she replies with a grin that shows fangs poking through her lips as her breath puffs from her and creates tiny clouds of vapor.

I bow my head, then leap as explosions bloom into the sky.

----------------------------------------

I avoid the men who can’t seem to decide where to go or what to do. Even the robed mages are cowering at the massive balls of fire blooming into the night sky and displacing dozens of men and lighting up tents like tender.

Jace and Tim got a little too excited with their explosions, but at least the trebuchets are going up in smoke. It’s up to me and Heather to release the dragons.

She bashes her knee to a jingoist's face, then grabs another by his purple cloak, drawing him in before he can escape. He goes down like a sack of rocks after she breaks his arm.

I give a huff, dropping my jingoist who wet himself before I kindly knocked him out.

He just wouldn't stop screaming after I grabbed hold of him.

Did you fear he’d die of fright? Cynic asks dryly.

Heart attacks are known to take humans. I merely protected him from such a fate.

Cynic snorts in what may be amusement.

I reach the dragons. Eyes closed and hides gently rising with the swell of each far-reaching breath, they could almost be mistaken for boulders the size of a small hill.

I place a hand against the metal chaining them to the ground. Another explosion rocks the plain and I grip the metal tighter as the force of the blast threatens to send me toppling from my feet. I put by forearm up to block the heatwave. Wood and metal ping against my body, leaving burning trails into my fur but not breaking skin.

I return my attention to the chains. My claws aren’t suitable for picking locks, so I either need to break the chains or shift back down to human hands.

Either at this moment is a bit of a challenge. My wolf won’t wish to release me to my more vulnerable form in the midst of battle, plus concentrating enough to shift back… wouldn’t be easy.

Heather puts a key in the lock and twists with a grunt.

Ahhh. That’s smart.

She grins at me, her eyes crinkling.

I shove a jingoist and he goes tumbling back through a tent.

“Go,” I growl at Heather.

She nods, racing to the next lock as I shove both fully clothed and half-clothed jingoist away from her and protect her back. They weren’t expecting a raid tonight. Amateurs.

A string is pulled taught somewhere in the night and my ears flick, trying to pinpoint the direction.

Before I can get a bead, the arrow zips from a shadow some twenty feet off. I step in front of it and its intended target, Heather, catching it from the air. The oddly shaped wolfsbane tip stings my nose and brings a growl from the depths of my chest. I break the shaft and toss it away. It seems these jingoist came prepared.

Flash whoops somewhere in the night, then a loud wail that sounds like an ear-splitting toddler crying raises the hair along my arms and neck.

I clench my fist and howl long and low, a haunting melody meant to inspire fear in all who hear. It mixes with the cry from Flash and makes the air bristle with tension as the crackling of the fires and the crash of wood echoes around the clearing.

I hear the clack of wood against wood as the archer shakes with fear or adrenaline, trying to knock their next arrow. Possibly both. Too bad for him the sound allows me to pinpoint where he’s crouching behind a tent.

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The sharp, metallic, and slightly sweet tang of silver comes from a large stump. I leap on top of the stump, my claws digging into the soft white flesh as I lean over and get a glimpse at the jingoist beneath me. I pick him up by his collar and he flails like a fish on a hook. Ducking a second arrow, I toss my flailing jingoist at the shadow. With an oomph, they both go tumbling into the night. Hopefully they're out for good. Would hate to have to kill them.

I glance over my shoulder. Heather is doing well, and the hiss of flames continues to fight against the paltry water the men throw on the flames. Wolves, cats, and a few men make chaos around the dragons and sending jingoist streaming from their tents with panicked cries. I glance at the slaves. They aren't far. Perhaps twenty feet.

Flash materializes behind me and nods. I leap over a sword, rake my claws down a man's back, and grab a jingoist's forearm and send him tumbling into the woods after breaking his sword arm.

I reach the enslaved minds. They stare blankly ahead, and I reach for Cynic.

What do I do?

Wait, something else whispers.

But I am right before them. There is no need to wait. I can free them!

Something smashes into my back and I stumble, feeling the trickle of something warm and wet cool as it seeps from my skin and dribbles down my back and soaks into my fur.

I glance over my shoulder as a man in a robe strides from a large tent on the other side of the mindless human army.

He stops ten feet from me, looking me up and down even as a wolf leaps at him from behind a tent. A black and grey I recognize as Sir Rey. Without looking, he hisses out something and then a log from a large fire streaks into the wolf.

Sir Rey yelps and I hear something crack when he slams into a tree.

I rush at the mage before he can finish the job, using both arms and legs in an odd mishmash of a human run and wolf lope.

The mage grins, lifting his hand. I duck and roll, a log slamming into a stump behind me with suck force it splinters on impact.

I approach more cautiously, trying to decide if I can throw a blade in this form or if it will only be turned back on me.

That’s when the mage hisses something lilting and long. I run at him, but too late. He lifts his head and trembling hands. I pause as over thirty logs lift from the ground, some still glowing with flame and others sharpened into stakes. Knives that have strange wooden handles that thread through the metal hover about his head, the metal gleaming and the swirling wood polished to a gleaming mahogany.

Shitake mushrooms and ursalicum blood. This is not good.

I hiss through clenched teeth, scrambling back and darting to the left. That way, all those logs won’t be aimed at the dragon and specifically Heather, who was behind me before I moved.

He grins, his eyes beneath the hood glowing with knowledge, as if he knows what I’m doing but is unconcerned about the scrambling of one wolf who is soon to be dead.

Beast beats against me, urging me to use him. But… I felt the souls snuffed mere days ago. I felt how easy it could be to let the Beast out and kill every single person here. To kill the five thousand men. I will use that as a last resort… but I cannot shake the feeling that with every death, every soul snuffed from this world by the depths of my mind, that something dark and cold seeps into my soul.

Something whispers that I could save Videlia. I could be free. Within hours, all this striving could be done. Videlia would be safe. Those I love would be safe. My promises could be kept.

A numbness enters my soul and clouds my mind. It would be so easy. They are trying to kill me and those I love. They are attacking an innocent town.

They deserve death more than many I killed as an assassin.

Roland, comes a small voice that barely penetrates through the hopeful and cold fog within me that whispers of things I desire. Roland, wait, it says.

But why should I? I trusted the Allfather, and all it has got me to this point is more war. More death. Losing the only father who ever loved me. More responsibility and chains that slowly drain me of any dreams I once held.

I dodge the first of the logs, which move as if in slow motion as I contemplate ending this here and now. No more need for any further death on Videlia. No more fighting. All those fleeing Videlia wouldn’t need to look back over their shoulders, fearful of the army on their tails.

It would be easy. I reach for Beast, and he leaps from his cage. Black pools around me, glistening like ink in the firelight. Tendrils burst from my chest and catch the logs, one stopping inches from my nose, so close I feel the heat from the once burning log.

The mage takes a shaky step back.

My lips part in a sinister grin as coldness eclipses my heart, and the Assassin shows his head.

I hold out a hand, and a whip-like tendril of black leaps at the mage. His eyes widen and he stumbles back, mumbling. A wall of wood springs up in front of him, taking the physical brunt of the impact. But the mental push of Beast continues through the wood, and I feel his soul like a warm flame.

I feel many such flickers.

All it would take is a simple thought. All the danger, gone.

Safety.

Something inside whispers that this is wrong.

But why should protecting those at my back be wrong?

Don't repeat the mistakes of the past, boy, because when the past comes knocking, it will be hard to prevent yourself from leaning on old habits. But that is not the way.

Pa’s voice comes to my mind unbidden, as if spoken directly from his heart to mine.

It shakes me from the frozen stupor. Shakes me to my very core as I realize just what I was about to do.

I stumble back, tripping over a tent and almost landing on my tail that's tucked between my legs.

The coldness roars deep within. It seeps from Beast’s cage and infects my heart and soul as it tries to take control again with whispers of ease and might, if only I kill.

I sink down to a knee, and a log barrels toward my head. I duck, and it soars over my head, touching the fur on the tips of my ears.

I look up, and the mage cautiously approaches, as if afraid. And then I smell the harsh and slightly sweet scent of urine and realize I terrified him.

He walks up to me and stops five feet away with logs and stakes floating around his head, ready and waiting.

Then he grins, a deranged thing that makes his eyes squinty even as he wipes sweat from his forehead.

“Unused to such power, are you? Pity it was given to such a mutt. Such power belongs in noble purebloods. But it seems a cursed kursk is not strong enough to—“

Would you shut him up already?

I hold out a hand and Beast leaps from me in a streak. It hits him in the shoulder, and he looks down with a slack jaw, as if not believing what he is seeing. I draw back my hand and he screams as the pain catches up to his brain. The coldness of Beast cauterized the wound, but it also went straight through his shoulder, creating a gaping three-inch hole.

The logs shoot forward, but I slip past one, take another in the shoulder, then grab his head and let his nose meet my knee. He gives a muffled howl and stumbles back, falling into the fire he was getting his logs from. The flames race up his robes as he stumbles from the flames. A wolf, the same one that got bashed by a log earlier, leaps. The mage’s screams are cut into gurgling, sucking sounds before he goes still.

Coldness causes my limbs to tremble and something I am unused to threads through my body.

Terror.

Terror of what I almost did.

I battle my way back to Heather, leaping and slashing and falling into the mindless combat that is mere motion ingrained into my soul as I try to ignore the shakiness of my soul.

I would have killed everyone. As much as I wished I would have been able to discriminate between friend and foe like when Pa died… I know deep down I was too far gone. Some of those flames I was preparing to snuff felt familiar. I knew them.

And I would have killed them.

I would have killed the dragons as threats. I would have killed the five thousand soldiers. I would have killed the mindless human slaves. It's possible I would have killed my very friends and allies.

I shake the images and feelings from my mind, knowing an absent mind right now can make this mission a failure. And Videlia cannot handle a failure tonight.