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I changed the title of this chapter, by the way.
Chapter 22: The Reaper Cometh [concluded]
******
Wiley’s feet dangled from his arboreal perch like twin possums. They waggled back and forth as he adjusted his balance and his sweaty grip on the crossbow.
Part of him wanted to see what now unfolded behind the coach, but the suggestion curdled Wiley’s breakfast in his stomach and made him want to find a nice, comfy rock to hide beneath. The new Boss was scary as Hell, maybe scarier than that even, but Wiley refused to imagine anyone who could best him—her?—in a fight.
The others said he worried too much, but Wiley knew they were all as frightened as he was, perhaps more. Theories abounded as to the new Boss’s identity: A dark mage out to steal Templar secrets, a disgraced mercenary out for revenge, an exiled Basitin on the run.
Stick to the plan, he told himself. Shoot anybody that tries to escape. He wondered if James and Juirrel had dealt with the party from the second coach yet.
Well, I suppose we’ll know soon enough. Happy for something less distressing about which to worry, Wiley slowly lifted his legs over the branch and watched the forest.
“Wiley,” hissed Matthews from the next tree over. “Wiley, what’re you doing? He said to watch the road.” Wiley did not need to ask who “he” was; none of them did.
Wiley said nothing. He raised the bow to his eye and trained it carefully on a clump of greenery that suspiciously moved ever so slightly when he took aim.
“Wiley!”
Ignoring his comrade, Wiley squinted down the shaft at a tuft of brown hair that slowly appeared behind a leaf. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Suddenly he saw a flash of pink from the corner of his eye and turned in that direction.
Then he went flying backwards out of the tree.
******
Noakes, Maximus and Serena crouched behind a convenient bush; Serena found herself scrunched between the two men.
The wolf remarked something in Keidran.
Maximus asked, “What’s he saying?”
“He says there are twelve of them,” Serena translated.
“Four against one,” the young Templar sighed. “Not the greatest odds.” He noticed that Norbert still carried James’ crossbow. “Give me that.”
The wolf yanked it away and bit off seven truncated syllables.
Serena blushed. “Er… let’s just say he prefers to keep it.”
“Fine. We’ll creep around to the right…”
“Ryrgh neshla nen,” hissed Norbert, pointing right.
“Left,” Maximus insisted. “If we go right we’ll have less cover.”
Noakes was adamant. “Nen!” he repeated—the Keidran for “right.”
“Left!”
“Nen!”
“Left!”
“Nen!”
“Just be quiet!” Serena silenced them both with a ferocious stage whisper. “They’re in the trees, right?” She huddled near the edge of their refuge and rolled up her sleeves. “Then they’re mine.” Maximus held his breath.
High-pitched screams pierced the forest as Serena’s vines yanked many bandits feet-first from their hiding places. Most immediately dropped their crossbows in shock and the rest wildly loosed their bolts into the surrounding bushes.
Maximus glanced at Noakes, who shrugged and leaped into the fray. Men were appearing from behind tree trunks and shrubs, snarling and brandishing knives and cudgels. Noakes stepped up to the first highwayman, parried a slash from the man’s knife and knocked him unconscious with the flat of his chakram. Somewhere off to his left, a burst of magic from Maximus sent another bandit head-over-heels into a bush. One surly fellow with a heavy quarterstaff lunged at Serena, only to sprawl on his face in the dirt with vines wrapped around his ankles.
“Damn,” shouted young Rhys, dodging a wild swing from a short sword. “I wish I’d my sword here with me.”
Noakes turned towards the sound and stared at the tip of a crossbow. “Don’t move, Keidran.” The bandit probably would have fired, but Serena shot a green whip from her wrist and yanked him sideways into a tree trunk. Noakes’ chakram ricocheted off that same tree and into the fellow creeping up behind Serena with a club.
Just as lightning leapt from Maximus’ fingertips to his enemy’s sword, one enterprising bandit hacked through the vine suspending him by his foot and crashed to the forest floor. He was up in a flash, narrowly avoiding a snap kick from Noakes only to be tackled by Maximus. The young Templar busied himself subduing the man, pausing briefly to interfere with the inbound flight of a tall, lanky young man with long hair.
Magic surrounded him and flipped him lightly skyward. Rhys’ attention returned to battering the man beneath his knees, and the lanky youth landed on his head and kicked violently in Noakes’ direction. This ill-advised action earned him a rather bad gash on his lower left leg.
Wiley had been the original boss’ right hand, and deserved his name. Rather than foolishly lose his vantage point, he made use of the position afforded him and drew a bead on Maximus’ back while hanging upside down.
Three things happened: Serena yelled for Maximus to watch out, he looked up, and Noakes fired James’ crossbow. Wiley expired with a grunt of disbelief and the crossbow slipped from his fingers as he swung slowly back and forth from the tree.
Maximus looked at Noakes for a long time before finally mumbling, “Thank you.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Noakes replied in Keidran. He turned and wiped his chakram clean on the grass, hearing Rhys ask Serena for a translation.
“He says you’re welcome,” she lied.
A pained yelp reached their ears, and they rushed for the road as one.
Maximus and Noakes split up and rounded opposite ends of the carriage. They took in the distressing tableau: Lord Snaggletooth and Grandmaster Dresden facedown in the mud, looking essentially dead as doornails, with a bleeding Dirk Bunter and a headless coach driver lying not three feet away. A hooded figure balanced on one foot—the other foot had half an arrow impaling it—and glared wordlessly at Brindle as she cowered beneath the coach. The shadow looked up, saw wolf and Templar rushing it from either side, and vanished so quickly that the two nearly cut each other to bits.
They stopped short, panting heavily. Maximus wiped his brow.
“Teleport spell,” he groaned. “Grandmaster Dresden knows a way to cancel it but…” Apprehensive blue orbs zeroed in on Aldrich’s still form. “Oh no.” He crouched over his fallen mentor when Serena rounded the corner. Noakes saw her pale at the carnage, and queasiness briefly overtook her features before she put her emotions aside and attended to Bunter’s wound.
Brindle crawled out into the open, snivelling and shaking. “They shot Master! I tried to help, but…” Alarm bells rang in Noakes’ mind, and he carefully pulled her aside. “He came, and…” She looked at Snag, and her wretched countenance changed to one of puzzlement. “That man… he changed, he…”
“Shh, everything is all right now.” The young tracker bundled her into a reassuring hug and whispered furiously in her ear: “Brindle, don’t say a word about what you saw.”
Brin drew back warily and looked at Noakes. “Who are you?”
His eyes bulged and questions began queuing behind his tongue, but Aldrich was sitting up now and shaking his head.
“Ohhhh dear,” he sighed, gingerly probing the knot on his crown. “I feel as if a unicorn has trampled my—Good God.” Dresden recoiled at the severed head’s blind stare. “What happened?”
“Perhaps his Lordship can tell us,” murmured Maximus, turning Lord Henri onto his back. “This chain is cutting into his neck! Let me remove it—oh!” His loud utterance was due to Snag’s human hand seizing his wrist as it hovered over the pendant.
“Family heirloom,” grinned the false Lord, slowly sitting up. Vicelike pincers released Maximus, who yanked his arm back and rubbed the sore wrist. “One of the bandits took a fancy to it, but our dear, dear companion’s slave here saved my life, a-ha-ha.” He stood and approached Brindle, showing off his full head of human teeth in a crocodilian grin.
“You…!” Her arm rose several inches but stopped when she met his gaze. Noakes winced and looked away, knowing Snag was about to employ his awful hypnotism.
“I commend you for serving so well,” Lord Henri’s grave monotone was almost indistinguishable from the lub-dub of his own heart, Noakes realized. The others had clustered around Dirk and apparently were paying no attention.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…” Whether from sheer, overwhelming stress, or some sleight-of-mind by Snag, Brindle fainted dead away into Noakes’ arms. He hoisted her gently into the carriage and slipped away to speak with Snag.
******
“I had heard there were bandits in these parts,” Dresden remarked, “but I never thought they would presume so bold as to waylay a Templar caravan.”
Serena pushed a pink lock behind her ear. “They’re getting bolder every day.” She reassessed Bunter’s condition: The wound in his abdomen had healed nicely, and he was peacefully resting his way to a full recovery.
“Keidrans or humans?”
“One Keidran, the rest humans,” Maximus reported. “Most of them are still alive in the forest. We can report them to the sheriff—”
“Most of them, Maximus?”
Young Rhys swallowed hard. “Er…” He uneasily exchanged glances with Miss Derringer and avoided eye contact with his mentor. “One human casualty. Shot him with a crossbow. It was a life-or-death situation, master,” he insisted.
“Such a vulgar weapon,” tutted the Grandmaster. “All the same, I am sure the Order will understand.”
“I, uh, also killed the Keidran.”
Aldrich shrugged. “Probably someone’s escaped slave. It never would have survived in the wild. Well, we’d best be about finding some way into town, but first… let us have a proper funeral for our coachmen, shall we?”
******
“You saved the whelp’s life?”
“Keep your voice down! It was reflexive.” Noakes lowered his voice. “What was I supposed to do, sit there and let him be killed?”
“No, no, you are quite right.” Lord Snaggletooth folded his arms. “It wouldn’t do; nay, this works in our favour!”
“And what of you?” asked the younger wolf. “What foe brought you down to such a condition that almost betrayed our game?”
“Only Death himself,” leered Snag. “A shadow came for me and would have dragged me into his depths, were it not for the whore.”
“How can you speak so callously of she who saved your life? We can’t abandon her now.”
“Oh come Norbert, didn’t you see her speak of him? Her loving ‘Master,’ who drags her beneath his covers every night and puts his—”
“Stop!” Noakes realized he was snarling and checked himself. “We can speak of this later on.”
“It would be a waste of our time,” Snag sighed regretfully (and insincerely). “It is a terrible shame, but she could never live among us now.”
Noakes gazed at the coach. “Yes… it is a terrible shame.” After a reflective pause, he turned back to his comrade. “But who is this ‘shadow’?”
“I know not. But I have this.” Snag produced one of his knives with a flourish, the blade still decorated with crimson trim.
“Can you please stop speaking that way when we’re alone?” pleaded Noakes, but he took the knife and sniffed it. Immediately the scent registered in his brain, a recent (and troubling) addition. His heart slowed.
“I know this scent… it is Keidran blood.”
“I’m aware of that, you flea-bitten moron!” snapped the older man, briefly puncturing his aristocratic façade. Serena and Maximus looked his way, and he waved at them with a hearty “A-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
As Snag cleared his throat, the tracker elucidated. “The first inn where we stayed I smelt a spy outside our window.”
Lord Snaggletooth’s eyes became blue-grey slashes in his bearded face. “A spy?”
Noakes nodded. “A Keidran. This is his blood.”
“Interesting… Was this before or after our conversation?”
“After. Whoever he was, he would have heard everything.”
“So it seems we are not alone in our quest,” muttered Snag.
“How so?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The shadow learned of the amulet’s power and sought it for himself.”
“Same hunt?” said Noakes.
“Same quarry,” Snag replied.

END OF CHAPTER

If you can guess who the shadow is, I'll let you name the next chapter!

Awesome end to the chapter....hm, now who could this shadow be? He's a Kiedran, and he's the one that was outside that window earlier.....And, if I'm interpreting the last two lines correctly, he's hunting the same person that Snag and Noakes are hunting...Drat, I can't imagine who he could be. One of Muda's clan? Someone else from the Wolf clan?

He has appeared in the story...

Great update. <-ˆ-^
My random guess is Onyx. Yes. That has to be it...

Definitely.

You win the Booby Prize!
*gives Sable a Blue-Footed Booby statuette and coupon for a free mammogram*

Okay, random guess time. Captain. Dylan. Rhys. Please don't kill me.

Bah. You're so far off the mark. Dylan doesn't fight like that. :lol:
I'll give you a hint: We saw this person somewhere between chapter 15 and 18.

The wolf from Rex's dream in chapter 16? Oy, if that's what it is then...wow. Some strong magic there, ain't it?

Edit:
I keep thinking back to the last little contest thing you did for us, where you had us guess what Rom Norret meant, and I keep thinking...I never got my special scene.....Not meaning to sound like a perv, or a whiney-baby, but.....yeah...

Er, yeah... it actually slipped my mind. I felt uncomfortable writing it, but I'll do my best. Or you can PM me ideas for the next chapter (which will be interesting because I will somehow have to make your title relevant). Your choice.

And now, without further ado, the shadow's identity as disclosed in chapter 16 (SPOILER ALERT):

Highlight the above to read it.

Okay, after some proofreading I have divided The Sins of the Fathers into parts. You've just finished Part I: Prince.
Next chapter will be the beginning of Part II.

So then, the shadow's name is Cuzar? Or was that the Regent's name? Um...did the shadow actually get named?

No.
--- PART II: GLADIATOR ---
Chapter 23: Unhappy
Rexis’ chest was a rising and falling sea of black punctuated by one chocolate-brown hand.
He had many things others did not: An adoring lover, a warm place to sleep, and no shortage of food.
So why was he so unhappy?
Trixie’s sleeping breath warmed his cheek as he went over the possible causes. One was hatred. Although Rexis had come to terms with the loss of his former life, he had never forgiven Dylan Rhys for taking it all away. The rancour had sunk to the bottom of his heart and stayed there like some hideous creature from the ocean floor.
Then there was the loss. Once, he had loved a young wolfess named… No, of that it was too painful to think. He cleared it from his mind.
Could it be that deep down, in spite of his pleasant surroundings, he knew he was a slave?
“Up and at ‘em, Rexis!” boomed the burly, jovial Keidran known as Biggsy.
Rexis rolled his eyes and said, “That’s what you say every morning.”
“Well, if it i’n’t broke, why fix it, eh?” Biggsy grinned and slammed the flat of his hand against Culkin’s bunk. “Oy! Lover boy! Rise ‘n shine!”
Culkin groaned and dragged a pillow over his face. “Go ‘way.”
A sleepy, tousled female head rose beside him. “Is it morning?” she brightly asked.
“No,” the pillow mumbled. “Go b’ sleep, Lara.”
“I’m Lara,” pouted a second female, appearing beside the first. “She’s Tara!”
“Urrrrrgh,” groaned the pillow.
“Yer should’ve thought o’ that last noight,” admonished the big arctic fox. “Gerrup.” He braced his thick arms against the underside of Culkin’s top bunk and lifted.
“Ah! Ah! All right, I’m up,” yelled the fox as his bed teetered like a storm-tossed rowboat. He tumbled down the ladder in a bundle of sheets and a shower of giggles from the two females. Summoning up his remaining dignity, he said, “I don’t recall hearing any giggling last night.”
“We covered your ears,” chortled Lara, or it could have been Tara—Rexis realized the two were identical twins. The other one stuck her tongue out at him.
“Shouldn’t you two be getting to the kitchens?” inquired Biggsy, hands on his hips. He had a way of conveying unspecified but definitely unpleasant consequences if ignored. It was like encountering a grotesque, unidentified insect: One has no desire to find out what it might do.
“You’re cute,” said Tara—or was it Lara?—as she stood. Rexis rolled his eyes.
“Get goin’,” Biggs chided, swatting the nearest twin on the behind as he followed them out the door.
Rexis chuckled and attempted to wriggle loose of Trixie’s possessive grasp, but that brought a soft cooing sound from her throat and a tighter grip on his fur. Culkin stood and tossed the blanket back on his bed, snickering as Rexis delicately tried to prise her fingers loose. Lott, now awake, fixed the fox with a withering stare.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Rarely,” was Culkin’s irreverent reply. “What? I gave them equal attention.”
“My sister should not be subjected to your… your perverted liaisons!”
“Butt out,” the fox exploded, “you freaking Basitin wannabe!”
That outburst finally woke Patrixia, who scrambled to interpose herself between the two young men. “Both of you stop it, stop it right now!” They withdrew to a respectable distance, sulkily eying the floor, the walls, anything but each other. “I swear, not a day goes by without somebody starting something. I don’t need it from you two, too.” As she spoke the former sentence Trixie glanced meaningfully at Rexis, and he knew she was referring to his often-rocky relations with Muda. Two weeks ago, she had questioned him about it.
“What exactly is it between you two?”
The pillow sighed as Rexis eased back into it. “Trixie… he hates me.”
She gently caressed his face. “Hatred begets hatred, honey.”
Her insight had shaken him; did he really hate Muda? Certainly, Rexis experienced guilt over his part in Muda’s troubled past, but now he saw the young leopard had become heir to Kander’s vendetta against Clan Wolf… and Rexis’ hatred.
Back in the present, Culkin was storming out of the dormitory, muttering about “just having fun” on his “own time.” Lott shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Trixie,” he said. “Liyona’s so young… I don’t want her to get the wrong ideas, you know? Our mother…”
“It’s fine, honey. I found them a bit noisy myself.” She failed to mention that Rexis had been helping her make some noise of her own. “Just leave him alone for a bit.”
“I’ll try.”
Liyona’s thin, tawny arms stretched behind them. “Is everything okay?” she asked, rubbing her light green eyes.
“Everything is okay, Leelee. Go wash up, okay?”
“Okay.”
Lott’s paternal concern was well-founded; Liyona had not yet reached maturity as far as Rexis knew, and some of the male Keidrans could be, well, pushy. Regardless, being around Culkin for an extended period could warp almost anyone. Many nights Rexis caught himself wondering if Trixie would mind sharing their bed with another woman—Yarith the kitchen girl, for example.
He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel such vulgar notions, but it was not easy; as Culkin said, when you’ve already bitten the grapefruit, why not go for the whole basket?
******
Muda clung to the stockade wall, stealthily observing Kestra as she went through her morning workout. Every move she made was poetry in motion, a rousing symphony of sinews and tendons that stirred the blood.
Pangs of longing weakened the young leopard’s legs, and he dug his toe claws deeper into the wood. What was it Kander said?
Wind gently stirred two leopards’ fur as they sat upon the palace roof.
Muda hugged his knees to his chest. “Wow! It looks like it goes on forever!”
Kander replied, “Maybe it will. Clan Leopard has flourished here since Ka’zul defeated Nor in the Battle of Fang and Claw.”
Muda looked up at him. “Big brother, what does the future hold?”
“Many things, little brother. More than we can imagine.” Kander allowed his legs to swing freely as his mind unfurled. “The future is always changing.”
“Why?”
“People change it. You can change your future, too.”
“How do I do that?”
Kander turned and placed a fatherly hand on Muda’s shoulder. “One: Let others act first; then build upon their mistakes. Two: Never, ever give up. Three: When you see something you want, go for it.”
“Like Regent Cuzar’s truffles?”
That brought a deep, oaken laugh from Kander. “Maybe not so much, but you get the idea.”
Both lapsed into contented silence, watching the sunset. At length, Muda broke it by saying,
“Don’t ever go away, big brother.”
“Muda…” Kander chewed his lip thoughtfully. “I won’t live forever, you know. Nobody does.”
“What about the Regent?”
“No,” Kander chuckled, “Cuzar just looks like he’s lived forever. All great warriors must one day make room for others. Even Ka’zul passed on, eventually.”
“I thought he went to Lepralla to fight for eternity!”
“Well, that’s what they say.” Leopard spots stretched into a grin. “Ka’zul probably just died, like everyone else. Death is nothing to be afraid of.”
Muda sniffed back a childish tear brought on by this unexpected talk of death. “But I am afraid! You’re… you’re all I have.”
“It won’t always be that way! Someday you’ll have a, a beautiful leopardess and children of your own.
“Really?”
“Really.”
The past evaporated with a jolt as Muda realized Kestra was looking at him; she smiled. That smile reached out and kicked Muda in the teeth.
Sprawled in the dirt, he was dizzily tracing the pattern gouged by his claws into the wooden stockade when a thin shadow fell across his face.
“Are you quite all right, dear?”
TO BE CONTINUED

Critiques, please.

Oh, that Culkin. What shenanigans will he get himself into next?

Those twins are total hos. (Wow, I had thought the spellcheck would've said that wssn't a real word. Who knew?)

Well, looks like Rex is getting into the swing of things, eh? Seems like it's going pretty well for him. It'll be pretty damned awkward if he ever sees Brindle again. Man, that'll be an awesome scene. Anyway...awesome update, Lion. Keep 'em up!

I have now decided that the Culk deserves his own movie, like, You Don't Mess With the Culk

Hur hur! "Swing."

Thanks for posting, guys!