Lord of Snow and Ice. Heather Massey

along with something about a gathering storm? Surely his “kin”–how the word left a sour taste in his mouth–would not be foolish enough to wage war on Aldebaran. They would be slaughtered, having neither the numbers nor strategy to face down King Leopold’s military might. Alucard knew this fact, otherwise he would have led an attack long ago.

      Stellan shook his head. The sorcerers of the Western Wastes had a long history of infighting. They would never successfully unite. He had learned one thing from the confrontation with his uncle, though, gaining confirmation of a suspicion he’d harbored for years now.

      Their Pestilence was spreading.

      “Pestilence” was his name for the virulent plague that had sickened the mountain lion, along with numerous other beasts of the forest. This included, he now knew, the bear that had attacked Lionel. It also explained the monstrosity at the Elysian River. To his knowledge, only animals had been infected so far, but how long would it remain that way? How susceptible were people? Alucard’s newfound confidence about the whole thing didn’t sit well with him at all.

      Stellan came to an uneasy realization–he may have to forego isolation and make formal contact with King Leopold to warn him of the danger. How much assistance should he offer? After all, the affected creatures tended to hide in dark and isolated places such as Dungeon Forest. But recently the tide had shifted. Aldebaran royalty had been exposed. What, he wondered, had Lionel and the others reported to the King? Stellan frowned. Everything, most likely, down to his wolf’s furry tail.

      If Stellan himself reported these new developments, would the King believe him? Would he even allow Stellan to enter his halls? But most importantly, should Stellan even care about Aldebaran considering the kingdom’s long-standing prejudice and hatred of those who practiced the Arts? Questions, so many questions.

      He smiled wryly while mounting his horse. I’m sure they would think it some kind of trick or blackmail scheme. You’re a rascal, a fiend–even by the standards of your own clan. No, it probably wasn’t worth the effort.

      These thoughts rebounded in his head, but instead of heading home, Stellan made for his neighbor’s border. Perhaps his brush with the mystery woman at the Elysian River had something to do with it. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, sunset was hours away. He still had time for another patrol. Stellan spurred on his stallion and bolted out of the forest.

      * * * *

      An upsurge of land overlooked the large meadow, one of many in Aldebaran’s hunting ground. It swelled high into the air like a wave perpetually cresting and offered an excellent vantage point of the surrounding area. As luck–or Stellan’s careful planning–would have it, he came to this hill on the last day of the month.

      He gazed upon the spot where Lionel had been attacked two months earlier. Usually he would keep to the borders of his own land while scouting for Pestilence victims, but occasionally he slipped past Aldebaran’s perimeter guards. It was a necessary risk, because one too many times during the past year had found him tracking infected animals across its lines–creatures that knew no borders. Most he had destroyed, but a few had escaped, disappearing into the lush lands or populated areas where he could not follow.

      Stellan feared such failures would come back to haunt him. So many people live there!

      Staring out across the plain, he idly watched several horsemen crisscross the ground in an attempt to corner a pack of angry boars. A few already lay pierced with arrows, awaiting a fire to blacken their hides and tease out the succulent juices.

      Stellan’s mouth watered. These Aldebaran royalty certainly knew how to feast. But how long until they became aware of his presence? He withdrew an arrow and cocked it against his bow. His keen eyes narrowed as he aimed for the center of the pack.

      Fwip! The bow twanged pleasantly as he released the arrow. It soared straight down to the meadow, carried aloft even faster by the southeast wind. Stellan watched in satisfaction as one of the larger boars suddenly reared up and fell back.

      That did the trick. A number of confused riders below turned about to scan the surrounding land. They then turned in unison to the hilltop. No doubt, he had been spotted. One of them broke away, galloping toward Stellan’s vantage point. A second rider soon followed, then a third.

      Stellan waited patiently for their arrival. Hooves pounded closer and closer. A blond mane of hair appeared over the crest, followed by a rider clothed in maroon and green hunting gear.

      “Well met, my friend!” Lionel reared his horse a few feet shy of Stellan’s mount. The animals greeted each other with snorts and stamping hooves. “I was wondering when we would see you again.” The duke flexed his biceps, a wide grin plastered on his face. “See here, my arm is just like new!” Then he reached out to clasp Stellan’s arm.

      Stellan noted his companions, however, were not as jovial. Hm, I wonder why. Edward nodded curtly, letting his scowl speak for him. The third rider watched him guardedly.

      Stellan bowed his head courteously to each in return however, and then gave Lionel his full attention. “I fear this call isn’t entirely social. I’ve come to warn you of something, Lionel. We need to talk. Now.”

      Lionel’s grin faltered. “Of course! But not over an empty stomach. Why even the very thought is abominable! Come finish the hunt with us, and then you can speak of your warning.”

      Stellan hesitated, and then nodded. A few more minutes could hardly make any difference, and the thought of another hearty meal did sound enticing. It was settled then. He let them think Edward’s cutting glance had gone unnoticed as he followed the men down to the meadow.

       Despise me if you must, but my news could very well change the course of your lives.

      * * * *

      Shortly after sunset, the hunters sat around a great fire. Most of them clustered about Stellan and Lionel. Two of the swine had been cooked and eaten, and now curls of pungent smoke rose from assorted pipes. A moment of silence greeted the sorcerer after he shared what he thought they should know about the growing threat of Pestilence. Alucard’s interest in the matter would remain secret for the time being.

      Lionel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So you’re saying it’s mostly wild animals that have been infected. You’re not aware of any domestics being at risk?”

      Stellan shrugged. “That depends on how much contact there’s been between the two. If you haven’t had any reports from your farmers, then count yourselves lucky. I’m only saying the risk is there.”

      Lionel nodded. “Well, the monstrosity that nearly killed me should be enough to convince anybody.”

      “I don’t think that’s quite the case,” Edward said.

      Lionel cocked his head. “Oh, you don’t, eh?”

      Stellan looked at the other men gathered around him. Each held Edward’s doubting gaze. “Aldebaran has been fortunate,” he murmured. “Pestilence has stalked my land for many years and has made its way north into Falcon Heights. If more forceful measures aren’t taken soon, the good citizens of your kingdom could become exposed.” He paused for a moment, measuring his next words for maximum effect. “There’s absolutely no cure–other than death.”

      Edward snorted. “And I suppose you have the defense we require hidden up your warlock’s sleeve–for a price! Did I guess correctly, Sir Swindler?”

      “Cousin!” Lionel hissed. “He’s trying to help us. How dare you insult him!”

      “That’s only your opinion,” Edward said. He looked at Stellan. “Have I insulted you?”

      Stellan shook his head. He’d heard much worse.

      “There, you see?” Edward sniffed. “I’m only being cautious. I’m sure Prince Stellan would understand our misgivings. His family is hardly…reputable.”

      Stellan eased himself into a standing position. “I’m just a messenger,”