Greg’s hand twitched on its own, sending the chess knight he’d been about to place flying to the floor. Nathan raised his eyebrows at him.
“Giving up?” he asked.
Hewan in Greg’s lap started screaming before Greg could answer. So did Almaz, sitting with Thoko. Their brothers wailed as wolves.
“What’s wrong?” Thoko asked.
Greg cradler his daughter, then turned on the couch until he could see the Red. The elder had been sitting amongst the cubs, but was now rising to his feet. The old wolf’s front leg, the one that ended in a stump, twitched nervously, and the fur all over his body stood on end. Blue sparks sizzled at the end of the hairs, reminding Greg of some of Mr. Higgins’s electrical experiments.
It might have looked comical if it hadn’t been for the way the elder panted, staring right at the western wall.
If Greg’s own other side hadn’t been howling at the back of his head with a terror that wasn’t their own.
After a few seconds, the Red shook himself, slowly sitting, then fully settling down again. His breathing was still going too fast, but he closed his eyes. Greg could sense it as the old wolf made a conscious effort to pull his influence back from the girls, the cubs. The wailing at the back of his own head fell silent, leaving him confused as both a human and wolf.
“What’s going on?” Nathan asked.
Lord Relentless has reached the source, the Red said. Things are not going to plan.
“Care to be a little less cryptic?” Nathan asked, before Greg had a chance to relay that for the rest of the room. Bram and Imani were just arriving, too.
The situation is—developing, the Red said.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Did the Rot not rise, or did too much of it rise?” Greg asked, even though he was almost certain he already knew the answer.
The Red stared at him without blinking, then turned to look at Nathan and Bram, who was supporting Imani, helping her into a chair. He waited until she was seated, before saying:
Something has risen, yes. But it’s not the traitor. Something far older. Far more powerful. A dragon, possibly.
“What—a real dragon?”
Somehow, Nathan sounded excited at the idea.
The Red turned to glare at him. A monster. I have fought and killed unicorns and kelpies and barghests and all kinds of nymphs turned to Rot, and none of them felt anything like this.
“But how do you know it’s a dragon?” Greg asked.
I do not know, the Red grumbled. But it’s powerful.
I hope it’s a dragon, he added. For if not… it might be Morgulon.
The old wolf shuddered, and took a deep breath. Now there are four.
“Four what?” Greg asked.
Four Rot-queens, the Red said. The traitors have been turned. All three of them.
He pulled himself up and limped over to the open door to the garden. He rested his head on the ground outside, like an old, oversized hunting dog. The back half of his body was inside, the front outside. His eyes half closed. Only his ears twitched.
“So…it’s happening,” Bram said slowly. “David is at the source right now?”
“Seems that way,” Nathan said. “Have you ever encountered a dragon?” he added.
The Red sniffed the air, head held as high as he could without getting up. When Nathan stirred, he said, I have not. I know that some remain in the north, far beyond Mannin. The Old One told stories of them, but I never ventured that far.
“Might be worth talking to Monroe then,” Greg suggested.
The Red’s ears flicked. It is not Morgulon, he said, his thoughts flooded with relief. The bad news is, whatever it is, it's moving in the wrong direction.