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She had released the druids and had put Izor in charge of leading them to the little formerly barred opening where the wolves had gotten in.
It was just big enough for a man to fit through, if he could reach it. But that was not part of Sascha’s task; no, she needed to reach the throne room while Snowdrop, Akemi, and Thundermist entered the merciless bloodbath in the courtyard.
The white wolf hoped to God with a stone in the pit of her stomach that no one had died... that would kill her inside if more innocent blood was shed, especially shed by the most dishonorable men in the land.
Her pads starting to ache, she came across what she presumed to be the entrance to the throne room.
The big dark solid doors were locked! That made her frustrated. How was she supposed to get in?
Skidding to a halt and retracing her steps back to the large entrance, she backed up against the wall on the other side of the hallway across from the doors.
Let’s face it, she was not a battering ram but being such a big and strong wolf she knew that she could probably beat the door open in one try. With a short distance between her and the Throne Room Door, she dug her claws into the wooden floors and raced headfirst into the doors.
SNAP!
The long wooden board inside the Throne Room that kept the door locked snapped open like a mere stick, Sascha sliding in on her belly over the shiny floor, dazed for a moment and confused as to where she was.
Oh, perhaps she should not have done that...?
When she finally came to her senses the white she-wolf lifted her head wearily and swallowed down the natural fluid in her mouth.
When she breathed through her nose she picked up a scent... it was a strange smell. Sascha had never tasted it before, and the fact that it carried a dark atmosphere to it put her on edge. She was afraid to look around and face the Throne Room royal chairs where the King would normally sit, even on a lonely day... for she had a good idea about who the owner of the scent was. The entire room was about forty feet from door to the royal chairs.
“Evening visitor,” a sinister voice spoke soft and mockingly behind her. She knew she had to turn around and face her enemy. When she did, she saw a tall muscular man standing on his throne.
His lower stomach was sort of hanging, his belt holding it in tightly, showing that he was a little unfit... just as she would picture a King. He had long, wavy jet-black hair with deep brown eyes that seemed to stare straight into the core of her soul.
“Let me be completely honest with you, wolf,” the darkly King said shiftily. “I found out about your prophecy through your pathetic King, and I only started believing him when I saw the horde of wolves attack my knights out of the blue. And so, I prepared to face you.”
“I can promise you one thing, Xanthus... that you will regret ever threatening my clan,” Sascha snarled, her long and sharp white fangs bared with hatred and fury.
Without hesitation she rushed at him, closing the distance between her and her enemy very rapidly; only to be greeted with a painfully sudden sensation of teeth being dug into her white scruff.
She did not even have a moment to understand what was going on before she was thrown half way across the Throne Room floor.
One second she was leaping at Xanthus, the next she was lying flat on her side with immense confusion as to what had just happened.
“You see, I have never told anyone this, not even my lovely wife Anne,” the voice of Xanthus sounded from behind her, and as she slowly lifted her head he continued. “I am a shape-shifter. This is why I have been able to keep my secret for so long. Anyone that ever did find out has never survived long enough to spread the word.”
Sascha regained her balance, standing up completely straight and turning her head to face the creature half way across the Throne Room from her.
He was a shape-shifter?
She had no idea what that word meant, but she certainly knew that it meant it posed a potential danger to her if she was not careful enough. Sascha’s green eyes slightly widened with surprise, her ears rotating backward. Xanthus had transformed into a black muscular angry wolf; he had a blue O shaped marking on either side of his cheeks, closest to his nose.
It wasn’t quite touching the bridge of his nose. The wolf’s brown eyes still seemed to pierce her soul if she stared into them too long.
If the King was somehow a wolf now, didn’t that mean he could understand her too?
She tried to speak but the black wolf beat her to it, “I believe that you have come to stop me from killing your clan.”
“I have,” Sascha snarled.
“Let me end it here!” Xanthus roared and went speeding toward her. She had just enough time to face the black wolf getting closer every second and thundered toward him, her pads hitting the floor at four separate times just as all big four legged animals did.
The collision between them was incredibly painful; Xanthus leaped up a little higher than Sascha had decided to, burying his fangs into the back of her neck while her teeth broke through the skin of the King’s wrist.
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They tussled on the floor, the black male’s fangs thankfully not delivering a fatal wound to her neck. Just one quick nip was all it took, really.
Sascha dug her claws into the King’s chest as she was pinned down hard by him, then she reached her head up to rip his right ear clean off. It felt as if something else had made her do that.
As Sascha spat out the rounded wolf ear, Xanthus jumped away from the she-wolf shrieking with pain. Scarlet red streams of blood ran down the right side of the evil King’s face. He looked completely speechless in pain. “How dare you rip off my ear?” The big black wolf snarled angrily. “I... I am a married man! My wife will be horrified!”
“If she loves you I don’t think she’ll mind at all, Xanthus,” Sascha growled and leaped at him once again, this time catching him off guard.
She held him on the ground for a moment, instantly shredding his shoulder with her sharp white fangs. But Xanthus just wasn’t going to give in to the pain; he lifted his head up and opened his jaws as wide as possible, clamping down on Sascha’s tender side.
The white she-wolf howled and tried to pull away but found herself pinned again by the huge paws of King Xanthus de Taske. She was held down so hard that she could not move her limbs or extend her head to bite his neck. She was totally immobilized except for the typical wagging movement of her tail. “That’s funny,” Xanthus snickered. “No one has ever been able fight me for longer than three seconds before being killed. I’ll have to give you a gift for the effort.”
Suddenly the Throne Room doors burst open.
Sascha and Xanthus froze with surprise. The white wolf was pleased and horrified at the same time. Pleased because of who it was, horrified of what might happen to him if he stayed around.
“Sire!” Sascha exclaimed before Xanthus put his jet-black paw on her throat, halfway cutting off her windpipe. Fortunately she could still somewhat breathe.
It was King Avyrus! She could hardly believe that he had traveled into the castle Throne Room just for her. She knew that she was supposed to save the druids and everything, but why had he risked his own life to come back for her?
“My clan and Aerulis have been enemies since King Richard, your father, died and left you the throne,” Avyrus snarled a new fury in his voice that she had never heard in anyone before. “I have lost everything! My father, my best friend, control of my clan, my peace of mind... but justice will be served.”
Avyrus’ tense, deep icy blue eyes shifted from the black furred King to Sascha. “You, Sascha, the Great White Wolf of Britannia... you will restore the peace here, and prevent an everlasting age of darkness over all of Great Britannia and beyond.”
“Enough!” The big black wolf snapped. “That was the prophecy. That is not reality.”
“We will see about that!” Avyrus retorted.
Sascha knew that it was not worth trying to talk the druid King into leaving while he still had a chance of escaping alive, for she could not speak English to the man. She lacked that ability unfortunately.
Still unable to move Sascha barked up at Xanthus, his paws pressuring her throat a little less by now. “Please, don’t hurt Avyrus!” She begged him.
The shape-shifter King stuck his muzzle in her face. “The ‘hero’ is begging, eh?” Xanthus teased and then turned back to Avyrus. “Say goodbye to your wolf pet.”
She quickly tried to remember Tairek’s words to her while she was fighting Harloc, the great Ituic Dragon who formerly terrorized the kingdom of Windstorm. She would not let him down now, of all times, just because she was a little wounded and being pinned by the traitor King of Aerulis. She was not going to lose!
Xanthus stared threateningly into her eyes with an evil grin before reaching down, attempting to tear out her throat.
‘Get up! Get up and fight!’ Tairek’s words exploded into her ears. She felt that the love for her friends and family and the determination of a true warrior was all she needed to complete this battle and win.
These thoughts were entering her mind rapidly, all of them passing before the one eared King could get a grip on her throat. With all of her strength she freed her back legs and kicked Xanthus over her head, sending him flying across the floor toward a window.
Luckily for him he didn’t go high enough to go through the window.
Sascha took advantage of this precious moment; she got up and charged at him with a hissing wolf roar.
She bit into his neck, her fangs going deeper and deeper as she kept thinking of everything he had done to her and especially the druids.
But he fought back, even through the horrible agony of the fangs embedded in his neck and very possibly throat. She tried to hold him down but he was just too strong. At least she still had a good strong grip on him.
Then a paw landed a hard painful blow to her temple, knocking her down. Sascha was dazed for a moment but caught a glimpse of Xanthus running toward the Throne Room exit.
Avyrus was frozen in place, as if he were preparing to meet the black furred King in combat. “Get away from him!” Sascha snapped, stood up, and shot after Xanthus. “Your battle is with me!”
The King stopped in front of Avyrus and turned around to face the wounded white she-wolf. Right before Sascha leaped to deliver a killing bite Xanthus transformed back into a human and instantly pulled out a sword and pointed it straight at the white wolf.
She should never have jumped so quickly knowing that Xanthus could change his form at any given moment.
But she could not go back on what she had done now, it was too late...
The sword pierced the left side of her chest and entered out her back. Xanthus let the sword drop to the floor, hitting with a clang.
“There,” Xanthus growled proudly. Then the King turned to Avyrus who had a look of horror on his face. “Looks like your next.”
‘No, please...don’t...hurt...him...’
Everything faded to black.