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

kind of barbaric behavior hadn’t been seen since then, but every de Velt had that edge. Atlas de Velt was very much like his grandfather, a man of little mercy and even less patience, so the threat of the man seeking vengeance for an attack on his property wasn’t unreasonable.

In fact, Scott grunted in agreement.

“That is why it is better to be allied with the son of the devil’s spawn than in his path,” he said frankly. “I like Atlas de Velt a great deal and the man is a loyal ally, but God help the Scots if they provoke Pelinom. I am not worried about de Velt, nor any other castle to the east because they are so heavily fortified. But after what happened to Makendon Castle and The Lyceum, I am concerned for the fortresses to the west. My spies already tell me that they have seen movement from the Scots heading westerly, passing through Johnstone lands as well as Murray. If those clans catch Maxwell moving through their territory, the situation is going to go from bad to worse.”

Troy, standing next to his brother, scratched his head. “Then what do you want to do?”

Scott fumbled around on the enormous oak table, rifling through a clutter of vellum, until he came to what he was looking for.

A map.

He spread it out over the table as men crowded around.

“We are located here,” he said, thumping the area of the map that was just to the north of the Scottish border, about midway from one end of the border to the other. “Here are Makendon and The Lyceum. They are about a day and a half south of us and we sent them three thousand men from Castle Questing. They’re reinforced for now. But this is the area I am worried about.”

He was gesturing to the west of The Lair, a fairly remote and wild area between The Lair and Gretna Green. Carlisle was just to the south. He took a quill and marked two spots, closer to Gretna Green.

“Here are two castles that could be in the path of the Scots should they decide to move towards Carlisle,” he said. “The one deeper in Scots’ territory is Hell’s Guardhouse.”

Andreas, who had been studying the map intently, glanced at him. “That’s de Soulis.”

Scott cocked an eyebrow. “Frankly, I hope the Scots overrun it and burn out de Soulis, so I’ll not lift a finger to help them, but this fortress – south of Hell’s Guardhouse – is one I am concerned with.”

Everyone shifted around for a better look. “What’s that one?” Cassius, who was from Berwick, asked.

Scott thumped on the map again. “That is Falstone Castle,” he said. “They are de Wolfe allies, but they are a smaller castle with a good deal of land on both sides of the border. Lord Merek de Leia is in command, a decent fellow who has always been cooperative, so it is my intention to move troops to Falstone in case the Scots decide to make a mess of it like they did Makendon and The Lyceum. It’s a preventative measure, really.”

Next to him, Troy grunted. “Hell’s Guardhouse should be their allies, but they are allies to no one,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “That entire family is wicked to the bone.”

Scott nodded. “Which is why I am only sending troops to Falstone,” he said. “Christ, the atrocities of John and Nicholas de Soulis are legendary. I hope the Scots burn those bastards out.”

“Worse than Ajax de Velt?” Cassius asked. “What that man did one hundred years ago is the worst thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“But the family has redeemed itself,” Andreas said, protective of Theodis. “Ajax settled down with a good woman and amended his ways. But the de Soulis’… their actions aren’t borne of conquest or money. Their actions are based on the love of bloodshed and hatred. They’ve looted and burned, raped and pillaged.”

“So did Ajax.”

“But he had an end result in mind.” Andreas was becoming more heated. “I’m not saying that what he did wasn’t horrible. It was. But he did it with a goal in mind. There are rumors of de Soulis boiling men alive who do not pay his rents, simply for the pleasure it gives him to inflict pain. I’ve heard more than one person tell me that the man and his son are involved in the dark arts. They worship the fallen angel. De Velt, as far as I know, never did that kind of thing. He was simply bent on conquest.”

Cassius didn’t argue with him. He supposed there was a fine line between the two, atrocities that were more acceptable than others. As Andreas wandered over to a chair to plant his weary body, Cassius was more interested in the map. Behind him, Blayth moved forward and fixed on his brothers.

“De Soulis worships the devil and boils men alive,” he said in his slow and deliberate speech. “But the man mostly keeps to himself.”

Scott and Troy looked at their brother. “That is true,” Scott said. “He does not cause any trouble with his neighbors. Not much, anyway. But he rains hellfire on his own vassals.”

Blayth looked over the map. A big man with cropped blond hair, the entire left side of his head was scarred from the wound he’d received years ago and he was missing the vast majority of his left ear. His brain had been damaged to a certain extent, hence his slow speech, but he’d never lost his brilliance.

There was something sharp still there.

“If you do not support him and the Scots manage to raze Hell’s Guardhouse, then you will have a massive fortress, full of Scots, right at your backdoor,” he said. “That’s less than a day’s ride from The Lair, Scott, not to mention all of the smaller fortresses and allies in the area that will be under threat. Is that what you really want?”

Scott pondered that a moment. Nothing Blayth said was untrue. The de Soulis’ might have been a