The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) Read online

  HALF-BREED

  The White Wolf

  Brittany Comeaux

  This book may not be produced, copied, or edited without permission from the author. The world and characters of Half-Breed are fiction. Any resemblance to real world people, places, or other works of fiction are purely coincidence.

  Copyright (c) 2015 Brittany Comeaux

  All rights reserved

  Cover Art (c) 2015 Brittany Comeaux

  Kindle Edition

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  CHAPTER 1

  A SULLEN MIST GATHERED over the lonely town of Rivershire in the early morning hours. A man of large stature and primal nature made his way into the old town with the intent of earning his bread. As a bounty hunter, he roamed the lands and rid them of criminals and beasts in exchange for coin without the weight of the law holding him back. When finished a job and collected his pay, he took his leave and continued his life drifting from one place to another until another opportunity arose. While others in his trade completed work as well as he did, he alone maintained a renowned reputation. It was true that his skills in battle were unmatched by most, but this alone did not earn the famed warrior his title, The White Wolf.

  The Wolf was advanced in his years, but he still resembled a man in his prime. His hair was pure white, and his determined eyes bore a silver hue, but behind them lie a soul as human as any other. His pale skin was protected by light leather armor. Draped over his shoulders was a white fur cloak that was fastened by a metal clasp on which a fang-like shape was carved on the surface. The hunter's pride was the enormous battleaxe—a weapon that required immense strength and both hands for a warrior to wield—that was fastened to a strap on his back, which was made of a mysterious metal that could make steel appear as fragile as wood.

  The sight of The White Wolf alone could send chills through even the hardiest men. Because most people thought nothing more of him than the drifter he was, few came to know the man behind the savage beast. Despite his mysterious nature, the hunter enjoyed the company of others on most occasions and left his impression behind on plenty of people. For those who knew him even only for a night, the Wolf was known as Varg.

  With a bounty letter gripped in his hand, Varg crossed the bridge into the worn town and faced the road to the Count's keep. Rivershire was modest, despite being the capital of the county. The county of Rivershire joined four others to form the small kingdom of Fellen. Most of the counties were ruled by a Count, but the last was where they King of Fellen lived, and all the Counts answered to him. Varg rarely visited Fellen, but opportunity for work led him anywhere he needed to go. After he found the notice in a tavern just the night before, Varg made the decision to seek this Count and accept his offer.

  Varg ignored the whispers and stares of the townsfolk as he strolled by, something he grew accustomed to over the years. The murmurs of the Wolf's arrival followed him as he finally found his way to the end of the village where the road began to move up the hill to the Count's keep. The keep was nested beside a small lake that the river under the bridge poured into and continued west. It seemed to be a pleasant view and evidently the Count agreed, for a balcony overlooked the lake on the third floor.

  The guards seemed cautious when Varg approached, but did not stop him from entering. Varg pulled one of the tall wooden doors open and found the entrance hall inside. Against the back wall sat the throne, but Lord Greenwood was not there. Instead, Varg was greeted by a short, plump girl. Varg guessed she was a servant, due to the ragged way she was dressed. The girl hesitantly approached Varg and looked to the floor as she did so. It was far from unusual for people to avoid eye contact with him, so he didn't pay any mind.

  Varg waited for the girl to say something or at least gesture for him to enter, but when she remained silent he said, “I've been told there is a job for a skilled bounty hunter. Might you know anything about this?” The Wolf then held up the bounty letter for the servant to see.

  The girl raised her head slightly and glanced at the letter, then replied with a meek voice, “You must be the Wolf. Count Greenwood is expecting you.”

  “How did the Count know I was coming?” Varg asked. His deep voice made the timid girl jump and though she tried to hide it, she trembled at the sight of him.

  A thin, aging man wearing fine emerald clothing emerged from the door near the back of the room to answer Varg's question. “As the legendary White Wolf,” he said, “your arrival to our humble town does not go unnoticed.”

  “So I've seen,” Varg remarked.

  “I am Count Edric Greenwood,” the nobleman said with a wrinkled smile. The Count stepped closer to his guest and added, “I assume you are here about the bounty letter?”

  “The letter specified that you required a face-to-face meeting before beginning the job,” Varg answered.

  “Indeed, the details of this mission must be kept from public knowledge until your job is carried out,” the Count stated. “If you will follow me, I would be happy to explain everything.”

  Edric turned and left through the doorway, prompting Varg to follow. The servant girl trotted along behind him but kept her distance. Varg heard her short legs scooting along the stone floor as she tried to keep up with Varg's long stride. Edric, on the other hand, kept a steady pace and controlled posture as he marched onward.

  The Count led Varg into the room he emerged from, in which a set of stairs sat to the opposite end. Edric went up the stairs and through a large door to another wing of the castle. There were guards stationed on either side of the archway to the dining room and another who patrolled the hall. Varg assumed the doors nearby opened to his bed chamber and perhaps his family's. The Count ignored these areas and continued to a door on the opposite side of the corridor.

  Edric opened the door to reveal a small study. He stepped inside and urged Varg to follow. The tall bounty hunter barely missed knocking his head on the top of the door frame, but stepped inside unscathed. Curiously, the servant girl trailed into the room behind Varg. It was then that Edric closed the door and made his way to the desk on the opposite end of the room.

  The desk was placed facing the door with a wall of bookshelves behind it. The Count seemed to have a love of reading based on his immense collection of tomes and scrolls. A blade and shield hung proudly on a wall mount above the shorter, middle book shelf, a clear indication that the Count was accustomed to battle in his youth. The rest of the stone walls bore banners of Fellen and Rivershire and various artworks, one of which depicted a portrait of the Count himself.

  The Count sat at his desk and said to Varg, “Now then, I assume you want to know why I needed to speak to you privately?”

  “I only need to know what needs to be done,” Varg answered, “granted you have the coin to make it worth my time.”

  Edric grunted at Varg's audacious remark, but continued anyway. “Yesterday I was visited by Count Lionel Lerington of Virland. He was distressed about some troubling information he uncovered in a recent string of crimes in the county. He was sure I would help him expose the criminals. After he left, Hilda ran to me and informed
me that Lionel had been abducted, no doubt by one of the criminals he'd been pursuing,” Greenwood explained. He then gestured to the servant girl, who Varg assumed was Hilda.

  After a warning glare from the Count, Hilda quickly straightened her posture, but still kept her face pointed away from Varg. “I-I saw someone in a hooded cloak snatch Count Lerington from the garden outside of the keep. I stayed hidden best I could. Thank the heavens that woman didn't hear me! I saw her strugglin' with the Count. 'Keep quiet!' she yelled, but he didn't. She had to knock him in the head to keep him from screamin' too loud. After that, she dragged him off into the woods.”

  “The assailant was a woman?” Varg asked.

  “She sounded like one,” Hilda answered. “After she dragged him off, I ran straight to Milord and told him.”

  “After that, I immediately sent out a bounty letter offering a generous reward for Lionel's safe return,” Edric chimed in. “Then I witnessed an arrow shoot through my open window this morning and hit one of my prized paintings,” the Count gestured to the wall to his left, where Varg could see a hole in the painting, “and tied to the end was a ransom note offering the safe return of Count Lerington in exchange for fifty gold pieces. I left the gold in a hollow tree on the edge of the forest as instructed, but I have yet to hear from the abductor again.”

  “That's where I come in?” Varg interjected.

  “Indeed, your job is to safely return Count Lerington to my keep or deliver news of his fate. The former is preferable, obviously. You will be paid extra for capturing the kidnapper alive as well,” Edric answered.

  Varg sat in silence for a moment and studied the Count. “How much of a reward are we referring to, exactly?”

  Count Greenwood exhaled sharply and answered, “one hundred gold pieces for the safe return of Lord Lerington. You will receive two hundred if you secure the kidnapper as well.”

  “Fair enough,” Varg answered. He looked to Hilda and added, “Will you take me to the abduction site?”

  Hilda cringed, but uttered, “Y-yes Sir.”

  After a small laugh, Varg faced the door and said, “You don't have to be afraid of me. I don't bite . . . at least not often.”

  Hilda gave a nervous and obviously fake laugh before trotting along behind Varg. He stopped briefly to allow her to walk ahead, then ducked under the doorway and followed her.

  “Over there, Sir,” Hilda pointed towards a garden area near the edge of the town. “I saw the woman snatch Lord Lerington and take off that way.”

  Varg's gaze followed in the direction Hilda pointed. It was the edge of a dark wood where a small pathway led away from town. He ventured closer to the wood opening and noticed small drops of blood in the dirt. He thought it odd at first, since the slightest wind or even the scuff of a boot could disturb the drops. He deduced that the path must be seldom used if the evidence of the abduction was still present.

  “Exactly how hard did the abductor hit Lionel, Hilda?” Varg called to the servant.

  Hilda jumped, for she apparently did not expect Varg to speak again, and she replied meekly, “Just enough to knock him out. I think he was still breathin'.”

  “Where does this path lead to?” Varg pressed.

  “An old minin' cave that was closed down twenty years back. No one's been in there since,” Hilda explained. “You don't think that's where Lord Lerington's bein' held, do you?”

  “I'm going to find out soon enough. Inform the Count that I will return for my reward . . .” Varg looked at the sky and saw the sun leaning west, indicating mid-afternoon, “. . . by sunset.”

  Hilda nodded and trotted back towards the castle.

  Though Varg actually had no clue how long the search would take, he knew his tracking skills were the best of any bounty hunter. Because his sense of smell was unrivaled by any beast, Varg could smell more blood deeper in the forest. He noticed that the blood trail continued and was almost certain that it would lead him at least near where Count Lerington could be found. He followed the trail on foot, crouching to the ground here and there to examine the trail. Varg feared that the Count lost too much blood and that he was probably already dead.

  The dried blood drops led Varg into the thicker part of the woods where he eventually found a derelict cave. The cave appeared to be the old mine Hilda mentioned. The blood trail continued through the entrance and into the dark, and there were signs that someone had broken in recently. Old, rotting planks of wood lay scattered on the ground next to the entrance as if someone had removed them. Several old signs hung over the decrepit archway warning intruders of the danger, but Varg knew better than to heed them when there was a job to complete.

  When Varg ventured closer, he was assaulted by a foul smell that made him take several steps back. The smell was no doubt from rotting flesh, which confirmed his fears of the Count's fate. He collected himself long enough to march against the terrible odor without gagging and walked right into the entrance of the cave, determined to find a body.

  The heels of Varg's boots sunk into the muddy ground as the sunlight from the cave's entrance gradually vanished behind him. The only light that found its way inside was from openings in the cave ceiling. As Varg ventured further, however, he noticed a dim light far ahead of him. It was not sunlight, but appeared to be the orange glow of a torch. Varg readied his main hand on his battleaxe and cautiously inched forward. Minutes felt like hours as the cave grew darker and the glow grew brighter.

  Curving left and right with the tunnel, Varg came across a wolf carcass lying off to the side of the cave wall. A single arrow protruded from the animal's head, and Varg then recalled the Count's story about the arrow with the ransom note hanging from his window pane. He decided that the kidnapper could have been the one who killed the animal. He touched the wolf's blood and discovered it was still warm. He estimated that it had only been dead a few minutes, so he continued forward to find the culprit.

  It wasn't long before Varg came across a clearing in the cave where it seemed the miners once did their work. Old mining carts littered the ground with coal and tools, but the first thing Varg noticed was the rotten corpse in the back of the room, and a woman holding a torch and leaning over it.

  Though the mystery woman had her back to him, Varg spotted a bow and quiver on her belt as well as a blade hanging on her left side. Though her head was covered with the hood of her cloak, Varg could see she had a delicate and feminine frame and was dressed in trousers, a long sleeve shirt, leather bracers and boots, and a leather vest. Nevertheless, she appeared to be tall and well-built for battle. With this in mind as well as her small arsenal, it seemed that the mystery woman was more than capable of kidnapping the Count.

  Varg wished to observe her more before he confronted her, so he took a step towards her with his hand on his battleaxe. As he stepped forward, he accidentally kicked the dirt with his boot. The woman shifted her position to face him and readied her blade in less than a second.

  “Who goes there?” she demanded.

  The woman's jumpy behavior definitely added to his suspicions of her. Varg paused and readied his weapon. Then he said, “I'm a bounty hunter, and my job is to find that dead noble over there and whoever kidnapped him.”

  The woman remained cool and collected, then answered. “Well it appears you're too late.”

  Varg studied the woman and found no fault in her demeanor, then added, “I may not be able to bring him home safely, but I can at least get my reward for catching his abductor.”

  The woman blinked. “Just what do you think you're accusing me of?”

  Varg shrugged. “Kidnapping, theft, and I suppose we can add murder to that list.”

  “How dare you!” the woman shouted. “I haven't killed anyone.”

  “Then explain why I found you standing over his corpse,” Varg countered.

  The woman sheathed her sword, walked forward, and said, “I don't have to explain anything to you. Now get out of my way.”

  “Sorry, Love, but th
e only place you're going is the castle dungeon,” Varg said.

  “I will not be charged with a crime I didn't commit!” the woman shouted.

  “Then I suppose we must do this the hard way,” Varg shrugged.

  The woman lunged at Varg with her blade before her. He responded by drawing his battleaxe from the holster on his belt and he held it in front of him to block. The woman's blade scratched across the surface of the cool metal, but didn't leave so much as a nick. The woman backtracked and attempted to swing her sword forward, but Varg blocked again.

  Varg took advantage when she slowed down and he quickly put himself on the offensive. He swung his battleaxe low, downward, upward, sideways, and every other direction, but the agile woman dodged every single attack. She was incredibly quick and precise, but Varg knew that every fighter had a weak point. It was only a matter of time until she let herself become vulnerable to attack.

  Varg knew that this woman was far to quick to land a hit on, so he feigned weakness and allowed her to go onto the offensive again. He parried, dodged, and blocked every attack she threw his way while biding his time and waiting for her to slip up.

  The woman halted her frontal assault, jumped backwards, and armed herself with her bow. She readied an arrow in his direction and stood perfectly still with her eyes set unblinking in his direction. She smiled, loosed the arrow, and watched as it flew towards Varg's unprotected head. The moment that Varg saw her fingers release the arrow, he swung his axe upward. The curved blade collided perfectly in the middle of the arrow shaft and snapped the wood in half in midair. The two halves of the shaft then flew aside and tumbled uselessly into the dirt.

  As the woman stared with her mouth agape at the two halves of her arrow, Varg then muttered, “Are you ready to surrender?”

  The enraged woman continued to loose arrows at Varg, who dodged from side to side just in time to avoid being scraped by the sharp metal heads. The closer he came, the more the woman lost her concentration, and it was the opening that Varg had been waiting for. He lunged for her bow and wrestled it from her grip. She desperately tried to pull away from him with so much force that she fell backwards. He purposely allowed his body to fall onto hers, pinning her to the ground. He then held her arms in place so she could no longer fight.