WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations by Kathryn Veque (top 20 books to read .TXT) 📗

The knight was giving him a good fight.

But it was close quarters fighting. There were men all around them battling and dying. On the north side of the road was dense forest growth and to the south, on the other side of the foundling home, was the River Tweed. Men were already being pushed into the trees, however, and Andreas could hear them fighting in the growth.

But he was focused on his opponent.

He was fairly certain who he was.

No words were spoken between them. None were necessary, mostly because they were trying to kill each other. Big broadsword were flying through the dark and when they met, sparks flew. But Andreas had the advantage. He always had the advantage because he was left-handed when most men were right-handed, and he’d learned to use that against his opponents.

This opponent was no exception.

In short order, Andreas had driven the man back towards the heavily forested area. His plan was to box him against the trees and then let nature take its course. But not before he told the man who he was and made him understand that any plans he had for Gavriella and the infant had failed.

He wanted Nicholas de Soulis to know who it was who had beaten him.

But that was his last coherent thought before someone came up behind him and clobbered him on the back of his helm.

Andreas went down to his knees, seeing stars dance before his eyes. He could hear grunting and fighting all around him, but he kept his eyes on his opponent, as much as he was able, seeing the man come at him with a sword raised. As he lifted his own sword, someone dashed in front of him and he could hear sword upon sword and then finally a groan. A body hit the ground next to him, lying face-up in the snow.

It took him a moment to realize it was Corey.

Andreas went mad.

Shaking off the stars, he charged his opponent, taking the man out by the knees. As he went down, somehow, Andreas lost his grip on his sword and began using his fists, pounding the man in the face until the blood began to fly. Teeth went flying. He knew he’d broken his nose because he’d heard it crack.

Then, he picked his opponent up and lifted him over his head, throwing him again a tree trunk.

As his opponent fell to the ground, Andreas pounced. He punched, kicked, and threw his opponent back onto the road and then rolled him down the other side towards the river. More punches, more kicks, more broken bones. It was the bloodiest, brutal beating in the history of brutal beatings, with every blow having Gavriella or Corey’s name on it.

And it went on for some time.

Andreas didn’t even realize when the fighting around him had stopped for the most part. He didn’t see his father’s army roll up from the west, subduing any remnants of the de Soulis resistance. He was focused on his opponent, who had now become his victim. When they ended up almost at the river, Andreas finally stopped throwing punches with his torn gloves and bloodied knuckles.

His opponent lay on the ground in front of him, eyes open but unable to move his body. In fact, the man’s face didn’t even look like a face anymore. It was smashed and contorted.

It looked like death.

“Your name,” Andreas growled, exhausted. “What is your name?”

The bloodied lips formed words. “De… de Soulis, you bastard,” he rasped. “Nicholas de Soulis. You killed my father, you son of a whore. I will kill you for that.”

Andreas heard the man’s name with a great deal of satisfaction. “Not before I kill you first,” he rumbled. “But you and I are going to have a conversation before that event. I am from the House of de Wolfe. What in the hell do you want with the de Leia infant?”

The eyes blinked, looking at him with increasing horror. “De… de Wolfe?” he repeated thickly because his mouth was smashed. “Nay… nay, you shall not emerge the victor. I will! I shall avenge my father!”

He was spraying droplets of blood on the snow as he tried to shout. But Andreas ignored his distress.

“Why do you want the de Leia infant?” he asked again. “That is why you have come here, so you may as well tell me. What’s this about a prophesy?”

Nicholas stared at him a moment. “Prophesy?” he said. Then he tried to smile, but it was all garbled and twisted. “True Thomas said so.”

“Said what? Be plain.”

Nicholas tried to move, to sit up, but he was so badly beaten that his body would not permit it. He managed to lift his head and that was nearly all he could do.

“I will tell you, de Wolfe scum, so you will know that your days in the north are numbered,” he said. “I do not need the de Leia infant. I can have another. I can have many. But all I need is one.”

“For what?”

Nicholas started to laugh, or something that sounded like a laugh. “A child must be sacrificed,” he said hoarsely. “The blood must be spilled at the ring of the nine stones upon the summer solstice. I will bury the body to feed the stones, to nourish the demons of the stones, and they will give their power to the House of de Soulis. We shall rise against the wolf. We will kill you all!”

Andreas was looking at him as if he’d gone mad. “Sacrifice a child?” he said, trying not to let his horror show. “Is that what you wanted this baby for?”

Nicholas’ strength gave out and he fell back into the snow. “A baby of noble blood,” he said. “De Leia’s daughter fought me, but it was of no use. My seed took root, as I had hoped, and the child was born. But I can have more. I can have many more and one of them will fulfill the prophesy. De Wolfe