Flesh and Blood

-A Five Lands story-

by Jay Bell

Illustration/Cover by Andreas Bell

Flesh and Blood, © 2010 Jay Bell,

Published by Jay Bell at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends.

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the book remains in its complete original form. None of the art contained within may be used

removed, or duplicated without the written consent of the author or illustrator.

__________

Foreword

This short story takes place before, during, and after the events of The Cat in the

Cradle, the book in which the character Nikolai is first introduced. I wanted to explore
Nikolai’s origin and I’m pleased with the way it turned out, even if it is darker than what I
usually write. I did my best when writing this to avoid spoilers from the full length novel, for
those that haven’t read it yet. I hope I was able to do so in a way comfortable to those
returning while also introducing newcomers to the world of The Five Lands.

–Jay Bell January, 2011

__________

Flesh and Blood

by Jay Bell

Poets have many ways of describing love: flesh growing warm, heart beating faster,

breaths coming short and quick. Lali certainly felt all these symptoms, but much too literally.
The ruthless summer sun beat down on the jungle canopy above, and while only the
occasional golden stream of light broke through, the roof above their heads trapped the
humidity like the lid of a boiling pot. Lali was sweating from the heat, her heart was racing
from the physical exertion, and she needed to stop to catch her breath, but she supposed this
was all in the name of love.

The cart in front of her paused just long enough for Lali to jam her shovel into the pile

of manure, turn around, and scatter some on the ground behind her. Then the cart rumbled
forward again, even though it wasn’t pulled by a beast. Well, not exactly. The wooden box on
iron wheels was dragged by two leather straps, each pulled over a man’s muscular shoulders
and held tight by strong, calloused hands. Muscles flexed and shifted beneath tanned skin,
causing Lali to sigh. The cart rolled along, allowing her to take a few steps before stopping to
shovel more manure.

This had been Lali’s life for the better part of two weeks. With the crisis of the

Oligarch killer averted and her friends returned home, Lali had chosen to remain behind. Not
just because of the muscles, the silver eyes, or the strange charcoal-colored hair, but because
Nikolai needed her help. With his broken arm, he struggled to perform a number of tasks,
mostly chores involving the eclectic collection of animals on the farm. There were fences to
be built, feed to be distributed, and now this.

Not that Nikolai let her do all the work. He was there, sweating alongside her the entire

time, just not in the way Lali had hoped for. As of this morning, his arm had appeared fully

healed, so they removed the brace and celebrated by heading out for another day filled with
hard physical labor.

Lali wrinkled her nose, used the shovel to scrape the remaining animal waste into one

corner of the cart, and scattered the last of it across the dirt. “Done,” she sighed. “How’s the
arm?”

Nikolai released the straps, held up the arm, and flexed his fist a few times. “Feels

fine,” he said. “It’s good to have the brace off and to be able to work again.”

His chest was heaving from effort, and even though Nikolai had been through hard

times recently, he still had enough muscle to make Lali want to engage in a few hours of
another kind of strenuous activity, despite the heat and smelly surroundings.

“I want to work the manure into the soil,” Nikolai continued, “but that can wait until

tomorrow. I should be able to manage on my own from now on.”

The comment hurt, but Lali didn’t let it show. Now that Nikolai’s arm was mended, he

wouldn’t need her help. The truth was, she should have returned home weeks ago. Not only
did she have duties there, but she still had the orange loka, one of only ten powerful stones
that her mentor, the Orange Oligarch, had given her to survive the events of the past month.

“I suppose I’ve made Hasam squirm enough,” Lali said, watching Nikolai carefully for

any sign of a reaction. “I might leave as early as tomorrow morning.”

Nikolai’s face was difficult to read, as always. “You’ve done much to help me and the

animals. I am grateful.”

“Now it’s time we help ourselves,” Lali said, placing the shovel in the cart. “I’m going

down to the river to bathe. Care to join me?”

Nikolai’s eyes sparked with interest, but the fire of lust soon receded as it had with

Lali’s previous attempts. “I have work to do. I’m sorry.”

Nikolai turned away, and Lali noticed again the scars that crisscrossed his back.

Someone sure had left their mark on him. Maybe that was to blame for the frigid barrier that
came between them every time Lali tried to get close.

Fetching a change of clothes, Lali walked to the river, trying to think of any technique

she hadn’t yet employed that could help her. She certainly had enough experience to draw
from. She’d spent years loving a man she could never have, and while Tyjinn had become her
dearest friend, she’d had more than her fill of unrequited love.

Not that she hadn’t had other offers. As Lali stripped off her dirty clothes, she

considered herself. Her body was athletic, but still lithe and feminine. The desert environment
had blessed her with a permanent tan and platinum blonde hair, a combination that attracted
the attention of many men—and a few women as well. She could have her pick of them, and
had. As she slipped into the blissfully cool water, she realized that perhaps this is why she
found herself so drawn to a challenge.

When she returned to Nikolai’s home, she found him sitting cross-legged on the carpet,

two wolf pups fast asleep in his lap. He was dressed in fresh clothing and his dark hair was
still wet.

“You went bathing!” Lali said, her temper rising. “What did you do, wait until I left

before sneaking upstream? Listen, if you like men, you need only tell me. Otherwise, I can’t
help feeling there’s something about me you don’t like.”

Nikolai lowered his eyes to the dozing animals in his lap. “There is nothing wrong with

you. On the contrary. I’m the one who is broken. There are promises I made, promises that I
must keep.”

“Tell me,” Lali said, sitting on the carpet in front of him. “Please explain it to me so I

can at least understand.”

Nikolai shook his head. “You would leave.”
Was he implying the he didn’t want her to go? Lali felt encouraged by this, but she had

to press on if she was going to permanently break down this barrier. “I’m leaving anyway,”
she said, “but I don’t want to go feeling like I do now. I want to look back on these weeks
together and finally understand who you are.”

“Very well,” Nikolai said. “I will tell you.”

* * * * *

Wild cinnamon hair and deep-set brown eyes that were smiling, always smiling, even

though life had clearly beaten her down. Her clothes were ragged, although she seemed to
have done her best to wash and arrange them attractively. Ratty string replaced the broken
strap of one sandal on feet that were red and swollen from too much walking. Here was a
woman who, despite her pride, needed some charity. The second she stepped into the tavern,
Nikolai knew she wasn’t a paying customer. The dog trailing behind her, all skin and bones,
took in the scent of food but lacked enough hope to even drool.

The woman’s bright eyes searched for a kind face, only momentarily surprised to find

one behind the bar. She approached, confident at first but slowing cautiously as she neared
the wooden counter.

“It’s your lucky day,” Nikolai said to her. “In honor of the goddess Bride, all women

with red hair dine free tonight.” He nodded to the dog. “Their friends, too.”

The woman smiled, and the grit and grime of a hard life momentarily disappeared,

overshadowed by her beauty. Nikolai fetched a bowl of stew and a generous chunk of bread.
The woman sat at the bar, arms pressed close to her body as if to make herself even more
slight than she already was, flashing a cautious smile when he set the bowl in front of her.

“What’s your name?” Nikolai asked as he took a wooden spoon from under the

counter.

“Sura.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and her hand shook as she took the spoon

from him. Nikolai left her to enjoy her meal, preparing a generous plate of scraps for the dog.
Then he returned behind the counter where he busied himself with menial tasks, relishing
every opportunity he could find to walk past Sura or to exchange a few pleasant words with
her.

A lifetime of hauling kegs from the cellar had gifted Nikolai with an impressive

physique, and his face was handsome enough. His mother had instilled in him a love for
books; his father, respect for the people that supported their business. This made Nikolai both
intelligent and compassionate. Only his shyness with women held him back, but Sura was so
vulnerable, so timid, that Nikolai felt bolder than he ever had before. When she finished her
meal, her face became worried again. Nikolai could understand: The meal had been nice, but
outside were only the streets of this little village and beyond them the dark of night.

“I have a room,” Nikolai told her, his chest swelling with emotion. “Usually I rent it out

to travelers, but the weather is turning cold, and we don’t get many visitors this time of year.
Why don’t you take it? It’ll go to waste otherwise.”

Sura’s grateful tears came so easily that Nikolai found he had to hold back his own.
The very next morning, Nikolai came downstairs to find the tavern cleaner than it had

been in years. Breakfast was waiting for him, too. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt as
Sura placed the hot grits and honey on the table.

“You don’t have to do any of this,” he said. “You’re here as my guest, not my servant.”
Last night’s meal and warm bed had done much for Sura’s confidence. She still had

trouble meeting his eyes, but her voice had found strength. “I only want to repay your
kindness. Besides, I refuse to sit idle when there’s work to be done.”

There was a grumbling from beneath the table, where the little dog was busily gnawing

on a pork chop bone.

“I hope you don’t mind Scamp’s table manners,” Sura said.
“No,” Nikolai laughed. “I don’t mind at all.”
In one short week, Sura became indispensable. She ran the kitchen, exchanged friendly

banter with the customers, and was always one step ahead of any problem. Sura had a shrewd
mind for business. Patronage almost doubled under her direction. Physically she underwent a
dramatic transformation; a week’s worth of proper meals and a roof over her head worked
wonders. Color returned to her cheeks, and her smiles came easily. Nikolai insisted on paying

her for her help, but even if he hadn’t, the tips she earned were enough to fund the new
dresses she wore. Even her dog was starting to put on weight.

“There ain’t a woman more beautiful in all of Bracken Moor,” Old Charley said,

nursing his third ale. “In all the Wildlands!” he added with drunken enthusiasm.

“It’s more than just that,” Nikolai said, leaning against the bar to confide in his most

faithful customer. “There’s a mystery about her. She never speaks of her past. Not ever. It’s
as if she were born the moment she arrived here.” He looked to the floor where Scamp’s side
rose and fell as he snoozed. The poor mutt had multiple scars across his chest and belly. Did
he know of the hardship Sura had endured? Had he been there with her?

“How could someone so clever and beautiful have been so down on her luck?” Nikolai

murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

“If I’m not mistakin’ the look in her eye, you’ll be the one getting lucky soon!” Old

Charlie cackled.

The ale must have made him a prophet, for that night Sura came to Nikolai’s bed. From

that evening on, the extra room was once again available to rent.

* * * * *

“If you’re trying to tell me that you still love her,” Lali interrupted, “you don’t need to

continue. I can understand how that feels.”

“Love,” Nikolai repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. “I admit I called it that

once. I was even foolish enough to say it to her in those few short weeks we had together. But
love can’t come so quickly, can it?”

Lali chose her words carefully, her own possible future in mind. “Everything has to

start somewhere. Whatever happened, and no matter how short a time, just look at what a
tremendous impact Sura had on your life.”

“She made me what I am.”
Nikolai’s eyes searched Lali’s, seeking understanding. He nodded at what he saw there.

Lali knew what he was. She might not have seen it, but her friends had told her.

“This story is more than that,” Nikolai said. “What I am means nothing. It’s what I’ve

done, and what I must do that you should know.”

Lali noticed the faint pale line of a scar, similar to the ones that crisscrossed his back,

peeking from his shirt’s neck and thought of the dog with scars on his belly. Her jaw
clenched as she became suspicious. “Tell me,” she said.

* * * * *

Sura’s eyes were wet, made beautiful by the crystalline tears that helped magnify their

color. She wiped them hurriedly when Nikolai entered before she lay down on their bed. Her
back was to him, as if she intended to sleep dressed and above the covers. The tavern below
was calm, locked up for the night. They were alone, his gentle words trying to coax the truth
out of her.

“It’s my brother,” she confessed. “He lost everything. Thieves set fire to his home after

they robbed him. He’s fled in fear of his life!”

This was the first he’d heard of any family. Nikolai couldn’t imagine her brother had

much to lose, otherwise he surely would have taken better care of his sister. “He can come
here,” Nikolai offered. “We make enough, even without the extra room. He can stay until he
gets back on his feet.” Her eyes were wide with surprise, maybe even disbelief at his offer,
and he laughed as she covered his face with kisses.

Nikolai didn’t know what to expect, but Roran wasn’t it. Roran’s hair was black, his

skin a deep olive, nothing like his sister’s milky skin and ginger hair. His eyes were cold, too,
with none of the light or gratitude in Sura’s. Roran spoke little and drank often. Nikolai tried
to be understanding. After all, the man had lost his life’s possessions. How would Nikolai
feel if he lost the tavern, everything his mother and father had left him?

The dog’s reaction to Roran should have been his first warning. Scamp, who had

become optimistic enough to occasionally wag his tail, had returned to his morose behavior.
Nikolai interpreted this as jealousy, now that Sura had someone new occupying her attention.

And she did, giving most of her free time to Roran. She even ignored the customers, choosing
instead to sit with Roran at his corner table, her eyes locked on her brother as he muttered
words too soft for Nikolai to hear.

Sura disappeared in the middle of their busiest hour one night. She hadn’t been of much

help lately, but Nikolai was still concerned. Even her brother wasn’t brooding in his usual
corner. Nikolai checked the kitchen and the cellar before going upstairs. Their bedroom was
empty, but he could hear Sura’s voice coming from her brother’s room. After a quick knock,
Nikolai opened the door to find her atop Roran, riding him and moaning in pleasure. Fury and
disgust raged within him. For the first time in his life, Nikolai felt tempted by violence as the
siblings scurried to hide themselves behind sheets and discarded items of clothing.

“We’ll deal with this later!” he said, slamming the door.
The patrons felt his anger. He snapped at those foolish enough to ask anything more of

him than ale. He even partook himself, emptying tankard after tankard and mentally cursing
himself for being so foolish. She had used him, played him like a fool, and now she was
upstairs—Nikolai couldn’t finish the thought, the idea too infuriating and repulsive. He could
only pray that Roran wasn’t really her brother.

Nikolai was never one for drinking. Soon his head was spinning, and the voices of his

patrons became distant babble that he struggled to focus on. He closed the pub early that
night, tempted to leave himself rather than go upstairs and face what needed to be done.

He was locking the door for the night when Roran leapt on him from behind, beating

him with mailed gloves. Nikolai’s strength didn’t fail him. Despite being drunk, he managed
to overpower his aggressor and wrestle him to the ground. He had Roran’s arms pinned down
and his body trapped beneath his weight when a floorboard creaked from behind.

“Sweet dreams, lover,” Sura’s voice sang out before something heavy hit Nikolai on

the back of the head.

The air was dark and musky, when Nikolai came to. He knew this smell well. Many

would have been discomforted by the smell, but for Nikolai the dark stillness of the cellar
was one he’d known since childhood. He could hear his father’s friendly voice, calling out
for him to hurry up with the needed cask of ale, no doubt a silver coin already in hand for
when Nikolai reached the top of the stairs.

A hand slapped his face.
“Finally awake?”
Nikolai jerked at the sound of Sura’s voice, causing chains to rattle. He explored with

his fingers as he stared up at her silhouetted shape, finding his hands manacled behind his
back. One of his wrists was painfully swollen, sprained if not worse.

“Good,” Sura said when she saw that Nikolai’s eyes were open. She lit a candle and

brought it close to his face.

The room illuminated, Nikolai searched desperately for signs of Roran. He wasn’t

there, but a number of items from the tavern were, including a paring knife and a hammer.
Sura tipped the candle, spilling hot wax down Nikolai’s cheek and narrowly missing his eye.

“I’ve been waiting so long to play with you,” Sura hissed. “There’s only so much

satisfaction one can get from a dog, you know.”

That night, Nikolai was glad that he had drunk so much. Sura came at him, over and

over again, inflicting terrible damage to his body, but most of it passed him by in a blur.
Whether that was the alcohol or his body shutting out the pain, he didn’t know, but when he
awoke the next afternoon, he found his shirt torn into bloody shreds and one of his legs
immovable. Any time he tried to move the leg, the pain was so intense that he wanted to
scream. But he wouldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t, even though he was sure his leg was
broken, because he feared more than anything that he’d attract Sura’s attention again.

Instead he lay in silence, wondering if he would bleed to death or starve. Either option

sounded better than Sura coming back to finish what she started. Eventually he heard sounds
from upstairs; the door opening and dozens of feet stomping along the floor boards, sending
dust sprinkling down into the cellar where he was imprisoned. Loud voices called to each

other, weary but happy as chairs scraped across the floor. Sura had the gall to open the
tavern!

Nikolai called out, surprised at how dry and powerless his voice had become, but the

festivities above were already too loud. The miners worked in shifts and came to the tavern in
large groups, the atmosphere escalating from still to rambunctious within seconds. His only
chance would be when one of the miners went to relieve himself out back. The rear entrance
and the cellar door were side by side. Only there, in the stillness between forest and tavern,
might one of his former patrons hear him call out.

Nikolai waited, each minute an hour in his mind, as the thin line of crimson light

shining from beneath the cellar door faded into darkness. Finally, rhythmic thumps signaled
someone on the back steps. Nikolai didn’t hesitate. He began shouting, shaking his chains to
increase the noise. He found his voice stronger than before, loud enough now that the
customers upstairs might hear him, even over the music. He stopped and listened, hoping to
hear someone coming.

His shouting had worked. The door to the basement opened, and in from the moonlight

came a stooped familiar figure.

“Old Charley!” Nikolai breathed. “Thank the gods!”
“What are you doing down here?” Charlie almost fell as he made his way down the

warped stairs. He’d obviously been hitting the ale heavily. Nikolai never allowed him more
than three drinks a night. Old Charlie had a weakness for ale, and would often end up hurting
himself if allowed to drink too much. “Sura said you’d taken ill.”

“He has, Charlie,” a silky voice answered. Sura came down the stairs with a calculating

gleam in her eye that Nikolai had learned to fear. “Possessed by evil spirits. They’ve twisted
his mind, made him do terrible things. He hit me.”

She brushed aside her hair to show the bruise on her cheek. Charlie’s eyes widened,

before moving back to Nikolai.

“All those cuts on his chest!” The old man’s voice wavered. “And the burns!”
“To drive the dark forces out.” Sura’s voice dripped with false sorrow.
“Don’t listen--” Nikolai’s throat cramped. It felt as though he had swallowed glass.

“It’s her brother,” he choked out.

“We need to keep him here until the spirits loosen their hold on him.” Sura placed a

hand on Old Charlie’s shoulder, making him flinch. “I’m going to make him better.”

“Help me,” Nikolai pleaded.
“This ain’t right,” Old Charlie said, turning back to the stairs.
“Neither is the way he treated you,” Sura called after him. “The way he would let you

drink just enough to develop a taste before cutting you off. Leading you like a carrot lures a
mule, knowing you’d keep crawling back the next day and forever.”

Old Charlie stopped and turned to her, hunger in his eyes.
“I won’t do that to you, Charlie.” Sura walked to him, putting an arm around his

shoulder and leading him toward the stairs. “The way I see it, this tavern owes you quite a
few drinks. For free.”

“Charlie!” Nikolai called, but knew he had lost. The old drunk would have his fill

tonight, convincing himself of Sura’s story and promising himself to tell others in the
morning. But Old Charlie would likely meet with an accident before he could alert anyone,
maybe even sharing Nikolai’s fate and becoming the target of Sura’s sadistic tortures. Nikolai
slumped with defeat, his strength gone. The adrenaline withdrawn, his pain became so intense
that blacking out was the only relief he had.

When he awoke again, he was back in his nightmare . The basement door was open, the

moonlight as bright as the sun to his dark-adjusted eyes. Sura was standing over him again,
but this time Roran was with her, a burden on one shoulder.

“Nobody should die alone,” Roran said, throwing it down on the floor. Scamp’s body

landed in front of him, tongue lolling partly out of his mouth, his eyes rolled up in his head.

“You’ll be with him soon. Tonight, two dogs will burn.”

“I want to play with him again!” Sura pouted like a child.
“Enough of your stupid games!” Roran grabbed her throat, choking her. “I should kill

you for opening the tavern.” He didn’t release her until her face was burgundy, but her
expression of pure ecstasy never faltered.

When she could breathe again, she giggled happily. “It was fun, and we have even

more money now!” She tilted her head, fingers toying with each other in front of her apron.
She looked very much like a little girl. “Can I kill him?”

Roran backhanded her. “No! That is your punishment.” He turned to confide in

Nikolai. “You have to keep them in line. You see what happens otherwise. I threw her out on
the street, weary of her games. But when she came crawling back to me, told me what she
had done, I decided she could be useful to me after all. She just needs the occasional fist to
make her behave. What a shame you never learned to use yours.”

Roran kicked Nikolai in the face, the boot connecting with his jaw. By the time his

vision cleared they were both gone, leaving the door hanging open. Nikolai could hear them
upstairs, breaking lanterns and spilling oil. Light from the midnight sky poured in, reflecting
off Scamp’s dead eyes.

The people of the Wildlands feared the two moons and the goddess they represented.

Night and beast, hunting and plenty. That was Lunitana, goddess of the wild that man
depended on to survive. They ventured out into her domain in the safety of groups, always
returning before the twin moons rose. If they didn’t, then Lunitana would claim them as her
own. No human worshiped her. She was the mother of beasts.

Nikolai stared into the moons of Scamp’s eyes. His brain felt fuzzy and hot. The pain

had taken its toll on his mind. He was about to burn to death along with his parents’ tavern,
their legacy destroyed. He could see them in his mind, shaking their heads in disappointment
at the foolish decisions he’d made. He could hear Sura’s laughter upstairs, and Roran’s
impatient commands. Even Old Charlie had turned away, his lust for ale drowning out his
compassion. Nikolai hated them, truly hated them all.

“Lunitana,” he muttered, staring into Scamp’s ivory orbs. “Lunitana, hear me. Give me

the strength of your animals. Make me one of them for I can no longer stand my brethren.
Make me strong enough to free myself, powerful enough to kill them. Let me serve you!
Lunitana. Lunitana. Lunitana.”

Her name was a mantra, the syllables blending together into a rhythmic beat. Nikolai’s

mouth and mind became obsessed with the sound of her name as he repeated it, over and over
again.

I will make you more than man, but only if you serve the animals.
Nikolai had heard the voice of the goddess or he had gone mad. It made no difference

to him anymore.

“I will serve them,” he whispered. “I will serve the animals.”
His body lurched with pain, but not the deep throbbing kind he’d been wallowing in.

This was fire in his blood. His fleshed hummed, alive, different, changing. The pain peaked
and became pleasure. His moan of pleasure became a howl, weak at first but gaining in
volume as the size of his chest increased. Hair, tingling with energy, slid along his skin,
covering and protecting him.

His vision faded as his sense of smell magnified tenfold. His arms slipped free of their

chains as they lengthened and his broken leg healed as the bone reformed into something
new. Nikolai’s howl ended, dozens of sharp teeth coming together as he closed his long
muzzle.

A shadow moved in the doorway, the smell of stale ale and oiled hair. Sura’s brother.

Nikolai leapt up the stairs, his jaws tearing into the man’s throat. Roran’s terrified scream
bubbled out from his neck rather than his mouth, before his body folded and collapsed on the
floor.

Nikolai stood, taller than he had been as a man even though he was now a beast. He

was neither. He was both. The moons above sang out to him as he stepped outside, the

rustling of trees calling him home, but he wasn’t done yet. His hair bristled. Sura was
watching him from inside the tavern. He could smell her excitement and fear, sweet and sour.
The scent disgusted him. She moved deeper into the building.

Nikolai followed, reaching down to take Roran’s arm and dragging the body behind

him. She hadn’t seen, couldn’t have seen his body, but he wanted to show her. He followed
her sickly sweet scent into the kitchen. All was dark except for a single lit candle,
illuminating Sura’s confident twisted face. She had a plan. He knew now that she always had
a plan. Her arm pinwheeled. The lantern hit Nikolai square in the chest, oil spattering across
his fur, vapors burning his nose. Sura smiled wickedly as she approached with the candle.

Nikolai held Roran up high for her to see. Her obsession, her lover, whatever the truth

of Roran was, he had been her world. Now her world was limp and bloody, dangling lifeless
from Nikolai’s clawed hand. Meat. Flesh. Blood. Brother. Sura’s eyes fixed on Roran’s body
and her mind broke. Her scent mixed with that of urine as her shaking hands dropped the
candle to the floor.

Nikolai tossed the body aside, returning to all fours as he chased her through the tavern,

his claws leaving deep grooves in the wooden floor as he ran. Catching her was effortless. He
pinned her down, and for a moment it was if they were lovers again, but when he brought his
mouth forward this time, it wasn’t to kiss her. He took her face, so that no one would again be
deceived by her beauty. Then he took her hands, so she could never again use them to harm
another living creature.

He carried her out of the building. Already shouts were ringing out in the village, a

frantic call to arms against another beast from the Wildlands. Or perhaps the smell of smoke
had alarmed them, for the tavern was now aflame. He heard them cursing Lunitana, and he
laughed. Nikolai brought Sura to the street, leaving her body where it could be found. Should
she survive, the world would see her true ugliness.

Nikolai would escape into thick forest where villagers wouldn’t dare follow him, but

first he ducked into the tavern’s basement. When he stepped into the moonlight again, Scamp
was cradled in his arms. He would bury the dog deep within the woods where his spirit could
run free.

Once within the trees Nikolai looked back, just once, at the flaming tavern, the glowing

faces of the terrified villagers, the place he had once called home, before turning his back on
humanity forever.

* * * * *

“Not forever,” Lali said softly.
“I wanted it to be.” Nikolai met her gaze, and for a moment his eyes were those of the

wolf. “I have no regrets. Neither of them were good people, and as I later learned, animals do
not share man’s burden of morals. There is no sin in death, but unlike me, they do not kill for
pleasure. I became more than a man that night, but I’ll never truly be an animal, no matter
how much I might wish it.”

“Have you killed for pleasure since then?” Lali asked. She meant for the question to be

rhetorical, to make a point, but Nikolai chose to answer anyway.

“Of course not, but there soon came a time when I was gravely tempted to do so.”
“Your arm,” Lali said, having barely heard his response. “For weeks now it’s been

bound up in that wooden brace. It healed quickly because of what you are, but you had a
broken leg that night, along with who knows how many other injuries. Everything healed the
moment you transformed.”

“Do not ask why I have not shifted my shape again,” Nikolai said. “Not until I tell you

the rest of my story.”

But Lali wondered if she already knew the answer. Here she was, a complete stranger

to Nikolai, who had decided to stay with him and help him run his life. Just as Sura had.
Every time Nikolai looked at Lali, he must have seen Sura as well, and was probably
expecting the same betrayal. Maybe, for Nikolai, the transformation back to being a wolf
would be like reliving the final act of that story.

Lali would have to leave. She knew she would, regardless of what else he had to say.

She needed to show him that she didn’t need him, wouldn’t depend on him or use him for
anything. She wasn’t like Sura, but he couldn’t see that yet because she had been walking in
those very same footsteps.

“I’ve told you my darkest moment,” Nikolai said. “Now allow me to tell you the rest

before you turn your back on me.”

Lali wanted to promise that she wouldn’t, to convince Nikolai that there was nothing he

could say to turn her away, but he’d had enough of lies. Nikolai needed the truth, so she
nodded and listened.

* * * * *

The jungles of the Wildlands were a salve on Nikolai’s soul as he loped through exotic,

uncharted locales. Rivers coursed over jagged rocks, rushing with suicidal speed toward great
cuts in the land where they plunged over the edge, cascading into rainbow-touched waterfalls.
Plants, flowers, even the soil sang out to Nikolai’s nose as he discovered a world where color
was replaced by scent. Here, deep within the heart of the wild, Nikolai released his past and
forgot about the world he had left behind.

The last vestiges of his humanity slipped away, all but a simple worry, a promise made

but not yet fulfilled: Nikolai promised to serve the animals, but how? His path crossed with
many beasts as he travelled. Most fled from him, all but the greatest, most fearless of
predators. Nikolai could do little for them, so he went on his way, hoping for some sign from
Lunitana, but her voice never came again.

Nikolai lived as a wolf for months, exploring every acre of the Wildlands and avoiding

the few areas where humans had dared to stake a claim. He had avoided one such village, and
was following a river north when the ground beneath his paws groaned and snapped. Nikolai
fell, far enough that the wind was knocked from his lungs. When he recovered, he found
himself in a simple, earth-dug pit. The stench of man was strong here. Nikolai was foolish not
to have noticed it sooner.

He rose and shook the dirt from his fur. His body both animal and human, Nikolai

stood taller than he had as a man. The paws of his front legs were elongated like human
fingers and just as skilled. He could walk upright, and often did when not galloping across the
land. Pulling himself out of the pit was child’s play, but it would have made an effective trap
for an animal.

Nikolai followed the lingering human smell, expecting it to move toward the village

behind him, but was surprised when it led deeper into the jungle. He soon stepped on another
soft spot of ground, but this time he was ready and stepped back before his weight could
collapse the camouflaged area. He reached down, found the edge of a simple bamboo
construct, and pulled. The concealed trap collapsed in on itself with a crash, sending debris
flying into the air. Nikolai thought of how frustrated the hunter would feel to find his traps
sprung but empty, and smiled.

For the remainder of the day, he sought out traps and rendered them harmless. Aside

from pits, he found boxes baited with food and propped up with a stick, as well as the
occasional snare. A few of these held animals that trembled with fear as he reached for them,
but he let them go. Oh, Nikolai hunted, but he did so as an animal, giving his prey a fair
chance to escape his hungry jaws, which they often did.

The sun was setting when Nikolai came upon the first cage. Unlike the primitive traps

he’d disarmed, these were built to be permanent. The wooden cage, little more than a crate
really, held a couple of the pygmy goats that roamed the neighboring Longlands in herds. A
lock was on their cage, but pulling the door from its rusty hinges was easy. He barely noticed
the goats bounding away as more cages caught his eye.

This time, the pit was in Nikolai’s stomach. He found dozens of cages, filled with a

menagerie of creatures. Many of them were local to the jungle, apes and tropical birds, but
some didn’t belong here at all. He approached the cage of a massive bear, fur yellow with
filth rather than glowing with light. This was a solar bear, native to the Steeplands in the far

north. Once a year they migrated across The Five Lands to the southern desert, their fur
soaking up and storing enough of the sun’s heat to allow them to survive the subzero
temperatures of their home.

This cage was made of metal, the hinges strong and the padlock heavy. Nikolai’s

strength was useless on it. He took a step back and considered the bear’s lethargy. It had
barely growled when he approached. The poor creature was shoved back in the shadows
when normally solar bears took every opportunity to bathe in the sun.

Nikolai concentrated on what he could do. He moved from cage to cage, freeing all the

animals he was able to, but finding more from far away lands, trapped in prisons of iron and
steel. His despair increased as he realized how many he couldn’t release without the key, and
even if he could free them, how many were unlikely to survive in a wilderness so different
from their native habitat.

The scent of the hunter. Just a trace of it under the rank animal smell, but enough to

track. Find the hunter and find the key. Nikolai launched into action, tracing the scent of
greasy hair and body odor until it led him to a long, one-story building. Outside was a ring of
huge cages, deluxe compared to the others but still not spacious because of the huge creatures
jammed inside. A pegasus was in one. The horse shook its wings in agitation when it saw
Nikolai, feathers falling to the ground. Neighboring it was a chimera who spat and growled
loudly at him.

Nikolai looked to the house, worrying that the occupant might have heard the

commotion. That’s when he spotted the old crow sitting on the roof. Its eyes were glowing
with an unnatural light. Nikolai’s fur bristled as instinct told him to run, but the part of him
that was still human knew he had a job to do. After all, he was the monster now. What did he
have to fear from a man?

He stalked around the house, checking windows and sniffing until he found the hunter.

The middle-aged man sat with his back to the fire, facing the window Nikolai was peering
through, but the night was dark and Nikolai didn’t think he could be seen. The greasy black
hair framed a heavy, lined face. Dark circles made the sunken eyes appear even deeper as
they focused on his work. He appeared to be polishing something small with a silk cloth.
Nikolai leaned closer and narrowed his eyes, hoping to see what it was, when the man
covered it with one hand, raised his head, and looked directly at Nikolai.

Nikolai’s muscles froze, but not out of fear. His body was no longer his own. The thick,

unpleasant lips of the hunter turned up at the corners before he stood and left the room. Every
instinct in Nikolai’s body was screaming for him to flee, but he was powerless. His village
had little magic when he was growing up, but this had to be it!

The man was outside the house now, approaching Nikolai as casually and fearlessly as

one would a child. His eyes were alight with greed, and as soon as he was close enough he
began stroking Nikolai’s fur, feeling the muscles, and examining his hands. Nikolai remained
powerless to move.

“I’ve waited a long time to capture one of your kind,” the man said, lifting Nikolai’s lip

to look at his teeth. “Came close once, decades ago, but she slipped away. You’re twice the
specimen she was. Look at the size of you!”

Nikolai’s claws ached to attack, to swipe out at this man and hurt him enough to

escape. To his surprise, one of his fingers twitched. This did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

“That’s right, there’s a man buried deep inside you, isn’t there? I wonder, can you

speak in this form? Go ahead, I allow it.”

Nikolai’s jaw unlocked. “Who are you? What are you?”
The thick lips pulled back, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “I’m the Purple Oligarch,

and I’m your new master.”

An Oligarch! Nikolai had heard of them in the tales his mother told him when he was a

child. They didn’t own many books, and the ones they had were mostly practical, but not the
old history book. His mother would read to him at night, adding details to bring the past alive

for him. He could see the way her work-worn hands caressed each page before turning it,
hear her voice as she told him of the world’s wonders.

Such as the Oligarchs. There were ten, each master of their color of magic, more skilled

than any lowly magician or mage could ever be. They were the closest things to gods on this
earth, or so his mother had said. Nikolai never would have believed the unkempt man before
him was anything special. Perhaps he had been nothing once, before inheriting the small
magical stone called a loka, for that was the source of every Oligarch’s power. If Nikolai
could just get free and take that loka from him--

But the Purple Oligarch would never allow that. Nikolai’s body was no longer his own.

Without saying a word, he made Nikolai turn and walk toward the half-circle of cages to one
that was still empty. Not for long, though. Soon the small silver prison would have a new
occupant, and Nikolai could do nothing about it.

* * * * *

“Silver?” Lali asked.
Nikolai nodded. “Real silver. He had built it when trying to capture the werewolf prior.

He believed the silver would sap my strength, which it did. The use of the precious material
meant the cage was small, barely large enough for me to lay in. It would be my home for
months.”

Lali’s chest tightened. No wonder Nikolai was so distant. Through sheer bad luck he’d

seen the worst of humanity. Sura’s sadism, Roran’s brutality, and the Purple Oligarch’s
cruelty. She could imagine that growing up in a tavern hadn’t exposed him to the best of
humanity either.

“How did you survive?” she asked.
“I made my peace with the situation. The Purple Oligarch had a passion for animals, no

matter how misguided it was, and when his attention was focused on you, so was his care. It
was only when he grew bored with an animal that it became neglected. I kept him frustrated
in the early days, and that’s when it was roughest for me. I tried anything I could to escape,
not that I had many options. I even returned to my human form and lay naked in that cage for
days. He was furious, and refused to feed me or let me out until I turned back again.”

Lali raised her eyebrows. “He would normally let you out?”
“Oh, yes. He enjoyed watching his animals fight. He took great interest in how we

moved and functioned, something he couldn’t observe under his control. His solution was to
pit two of us against each other to watch us fight. He would release us from his control, but if
one tried to escape, he would paralyze that animal, leaving it vulnerable to attack. The
animals learned quickly to fight, and were rewarded with food if they won. The loser went
hungry.”

“How hideous,” Lali said.
A strange expression came over Nikolai’s face. “To be honest, I learned to enjoy it. The

first battle I was in, I refused to fight back. I knew my wounds would heal quickly on their
own, and I remembered my promise to Lunitana, but I still felt pain. I couldn’t maintain that
strategy forever. Purple knew this, and pit me next against the deadly chimera. This time I
fought back, but never with my claws. I wrestled with the beast, doing my best to pin and
subdue it, if only by exhausting it. I thought Purple would be frustrated with this tactic too,
but he reveled in watching an animal move like a man. Since I wasn’t harming the animals, I
began to enjoy the exercise, although I would lose purposefully if I felt my combatant hadn’t
been fed recently enough.

“Then, during one such fight, I took my chance. I leapt out at Purple, swiping my claws

across the pudge of his belly and drawing blood. I should have gone for the neck. Purple took
control of my body, and perhaps it was the shock, for he didn’t even allow the stone wyvern I
was battling to harm me as punishment. Instead he locked me back in my prison and left me
there for the better part of a week without food or water. Then the stranger came.”

“I wish my friends had reached you first,” Lali said, thinking of what Tyjinn had told

her of this story.

“As do I, but no. Before they arrived, there was another.”
Nikolai gently roused the wolf pups from sleep and pushed them off his lap so he could

stand. “Walk with me? I shall tell you the rest if you do.”

Lali nodded and followed him outside into the very yard where he had been held

prisoner.

* * * * *

The Purple Oligarch never had visitors. Occasionally he would leave, often taking with

him small wooden cages full of game, and when he returned he would have supplies. He must
have traded with the neighboring village, but none of those villagers ever came here. Purple
was particularly agitated the day the stranger showed up, wringing his hands together and
muttering to himself as he waited outside his home, not even paying attention to his animals.

When the stranger arrived, he was wrapped in robes from head to foot, hiding all but

his eyes, which swept appraisingly over Purple’s collection of animals before the two men
went inside. Nikolai strained to listen. For the better part of an hour he heard little, but then
Purple’s voice began to rise, demanding to know why he should share what already belonged
to him. The other man must have stayed calm, for Nikolai never heard his replies.

Then the door burst open. Purple, with keys in hand, moved purposefully toward the

ring of cages that housed his most deadly animals. The robed man stepped out of the house
behind him, and raised a small stone that shone with brilliant light. A loka! Had he done what
Nikolai had only dreamt of doing? Had he taken it from Purple?

The eyes of the Purple Oligarch bulged, his face panicked. He spun around on the spot,

stumbling toward the stranger as if to attack, but then turned again to face his animals. He
thrust one hand in his pocket, as he always did when working magic, and Nikolai was
overcome with the urge to kill the stranger. No, the Purple Oligarch hadn’t lost his loka if he
could still work his magic, which meant that the stranger was another Oligarch.

Nikolai howled and snarled along with all the other animals around him, spurred on to

kill but unable to because of the cages. None of Purple’s animals could come to his aid
because he had locked them all away . Purple turned to the sky, perhaps hoping for some of
the birds he used as spies, but it was too late. The life left his body, and he tumbled to the
ground.

The magic died with him, and Nikolai’s urge to kill was replaced by fear. What if this

new Oligarch who could kill so effortlessly was here to finish them all? The stranger
approached Purple’s body with caution, used his foot to roll him over on his back, and
squatted to search his pockets. Once he retrieved the loka, he ordered it to awaken for him, as
if the stone were a living thing. He took the keys, too, before approaching the circle of cages
and examining them one by one. He stopped when he reached Nikolai’s cage and held the
loka up.

Nikolai snarled, then whimpered, then snapped at the air, but none of these things were

his will. The stranger was playing with the magic of the purple loka, learning how to
magically control them.

“Free me,” Nikolai pleaded. “I was once a man. I still am! Please, free me from this

prison.”

The stranger’s eyes widened in shock, but instead of helping Nikolai, he made sure the

robes still covered his face. Then he stood and walked away. Nikolai didn’t see him again for
a very long time.

Just like that, someone stronger had come along and snuffed out Purple’s life. Like a

big fish devouring another that was smaller. Like wild beasts fighting over territory. Perhaps
mankind and animals weren’t so different after all.

Weeks passed and no one came. Nikolai starved, but his discomfort was nothing

compared to his worry for the other animals. If they weren’t cared for soon, they would die.
Possibly he would, too. Being a werewolf meant he healed quickly, but did not guarantee him
immortality. Relief came when a storm blew into the area, the water warm in the tropical heat

as it cleansed his fur and wet his mouth. The animals barked and chattered at each other,
temporarily reinvigorated by this gift from the sky.

Nikolai slept often. It seemed all his body was capable of anymore, but one day a

commotion awoke him. Having fallen silent for days, the animals were loud again, but not
because of the weather. Someone was here. Nikolai could see two of them, barely men,
standing over Purple’s body and speaking to each other.

"I don't think there's anyone in the house, no one alive, that is,” said the oldest, the one

with the dark skin. His body language was tense, defensive. “Surely they wouldn't be able to
tolerate just leaving that there."

"Maybe we should go in the house," said the young man with messy brown hair. "To

get away." His face took on a greenish tint. Nikolai couldn’t blame him for feeling sick. He’d
had to suffer the scent of Purple’s rotting body for far too long now.

"You should try smelling it through my nose. Let’s go!" Nikolai noticed for the first

time a large white cat the size of a hunting dog. Perhaps it was delirium caused by hunger,
but Nikolai could have sworn he’d heard the cat speak. He didn’t have time to puzzle over
this because they were turning to walk away.

"Wait!" he growled so loudly that the other animals fell silent. The two young men

spun around, appearing terrified. "Please,” Nikolai tried again in softer tones. “Wait. Don't be
frightened. I mean you no harm, nor am I in any position to cause you any."

They stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Who ever heard of a talking dog?" the cat said.
The younger man’s eyes were alight with curiosity. "Who are you?"
"My name is Nikolai, and I know my appearance might startle you but—"
"Where is the Purple Oligarch?" The dark skinned man approached the cage. "It's

important we know his location immediately."

"You've already met him. What's left of him, at any rate."
"What happened to him?"
"I haven't eaten for two weeks," Nikolai growled, "and I haven't stood for much longer

than that. Get me out of this cage and I will gladly tell you everything you want to know."

"Tell us first." The man squatted down in front of the cage to be at eye level with him,

but Nikolai only closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'll be lucky to live long enough to tell it," he groaned. He refused to say anything after

that. He already felt near death and was powerless to help the other animals. What did he
have left to fear?

"Where's the key?"
Nikolai opened his eyes and focused them on the younger man. "The Oligarch used to

have a set on him. Those were taken, but perhaps in the house…"

He nodded and ran toward the building.
“Dylan!” the other man called, rushing to follow him. “Wait!”
This left Nikolai alone with the strange cat, which he still hadn’t ruled out as a

hallucination. It blinked at him a few times before speaking again.

“If they won’t let you out, I will.” The long pointed ears flattened for a moment. “Not

that I could use a key to save my life. Paws and all. But you understand that, right? I mean,
I’ve never met any other animals who can talk, so you and I have years worth of
commiserating to catch up on. My name’s Kio.”

Nikolai didn’t respond. Instead his eyes moved to the front of the house where the two

men were speaking. He could see that Dylan had the keys, but the other man was blocking his
path.

“Don’t worry about Tyjinn back there,” Kio said. “He’s just a little jumpy because

someone’s going around killing Oligarchs and--”

“The other animals,” Nikolai interrupted. “How are they?”
Kio’s whiskers drooped. “In rough condition. Listen, what went on here? How did you

get yourself into this mess?”

Before Nikolai could answer, Dylan had returned. Nikolai felt giddy with hope as the

boy moved to unlock his cage, but Tyjinn stopped him.

"Now listen, wolf," he said, stepping in front of Dylan. "We're going to open this, but

know that you are facing two Oligarchs. One wrong move and we will take you down,
understood?"

Nikolai sighed wearily. Oligarchs. They appeared so young, so innocent, but Nikolai no

longer felt he had been saved. Tyjinn took the keys from Dylan and unlocked the silver
padlock, which he tossed aside. Then he raised the gate a fraction of an inch.

"Let's do this nice and slow. I don't want you leaping out or anything too fast, okay?"
"Agreed," Nikolai said.
The top of the cage swung open, and Tyjinn jumped back as if he’d sprung a trap.

Nikolai strained to move his muscles, but they were too weak.

"You can get out now," Kio urged.
"I think my muscles have atrophied,” Nikolai whimpered. “Damn it!" He tried again,

this time with more success as he pushed himself up on front limbs. He panted a few times
before pulling his knees up from beneath him. He heard the intakes of breath, could sense
their increased heartbeats. By the gods, don’t let them think he was a monster! "Please don't
be afraid," he pleaded. "I know you've probably never seen anyone like me but—"

"You're a werewolf," Dylan whispered in awe. He laughed and ran forward to help him

stand. Nikolai couldn’t help but flinch at his touch, but the hands were gentle. Soon even
Tyjinn was there, supporting one side while Dylan supported the other. Together, they led
him into the house.

* * * * *

“See, we’re not all bad,” Lali said, giving Nikolai a playful punch on the arm. She let

the fist become an open palm that rested there, before daring to slide her arm around his. To
her delight, Nikolai didn’t pull away. They strolled around the land that had once been filled
with cages, but was now slowly being replaced by fenced areas and safe shelters.

“Your friends are indeed good, if not a little odd. They wanted to know what I had

seen, who had killed the Purple Oligarch, but of course I didn’t know then. I was impatient
with their questions, eager first to satiate my thirst and hunger so I could be strong enough to
help the other animals. I feared they would try to stop me, to claim the Purple Oligarch’s
property as their own, but instead they assisted me.

“Together we did what we could to alleviate the animals’ suffering. I knew those that

could be freed would have to recover first, while others would have to remain here before
being returned to their homelands. The animals that had survived the hard weeks of neglect
went to bed that night with quenched thirst and full bellies. Then your friends left, like heroes
in a fairytale, went chasing after the man who had killed Purple.”

Lali laughed. “Yes, that sounds like them.”
Nikolai nodded. “I felt they might be good people, but to be honest I gave them little

thought. With the keys in my hand, I realized the time had come to fulfill my promise to
Lunitana, to serve the animals, and that is what I have been doing ever sense.”

They stopped at a fence they had built together a week ago. Inside a mix of animals

grazed together, each a different species, cohabitating well together despite the odds.

“I understand why you changed back to a human,” Lali said. “When the man who

killed Purple came back for more animals, you wanted to defend them without his power
working on you. Your arm was broken while fighting him, but you could have healed it at
any time by assuming your wolf form.”

“At first, I worried that he would come back a third time, so I remained a man. Shortly

afterwards, many more people arrived instead, which only made me more apprehensive. Your
friends seem like good people, but they are Oligarchs, and I mistrust power.”

“Even me?”
“When you first arrived, yes. I mistrusted you. I’m sorry.”
Lali shook her head. “Don’t be. At least now I can understand why.”

“But now I trust you, and as you helped me make this place better, I found that I

enjoyed my time with you, that it was better to have a broken arm than to be in a shape you
might not understand.”

“You’d be surprised what I understand about shape-shifting, Nikolai.” Lali turned him

toward her and caught his eye. “If you want me, there’s nothing standing in your way.”

“There’s this.” He gestured to their surroundings. “My life here. The promise that I

intend to keep. I can’t leave here, but I also can’t ask you to stay. Not when it would mean
giving up the life you already have. You’re still leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Lali had to. Not only to put distance between her and Sura’s memory, but

because Nikolai was right. She had a life of her own, responsibilities she had been neglecting
for far too long. She liked Nikolai, and maybe one day she could love him, but just as he
wouldn’t abandon the animals to explore this possibility, she wouldn’t turn away from those
depending on her either. Lali reached down and took Nikolai’s hand. “I’m leaving tomorrow,
but we still have tonight.”

Nikolai’s eyes searched hers, and for the first time she saw him smile.

* * * * *

When Lali awoke the next morning, she found the bed empty, which it certainly hadn’t

been when they finally fell asleep. The white light outside suggested that she’d slept through
the morning. She freshened up in the water basin, trying not to think of how she would feel if
Nikolai was distant toward her. Then she packed her things while snacking on an apple and
left the house with her pack slung over one shoulder.

She heard Nikolai’s voice before she saw him as he tried to soothe one of the animals.

When she saw him, her stomach dropped, not because she was facing a seven-foot-tall wolf
standing on its hind legs, but because she feared what this might mean. Hadn’t he been happy
as a man with her?

Nikolai heard her and turned. “I hope you don’t-- I thought since you were leaving--”
“No, it’s fine.” Lali said, still not sure that it was. His wolf form was majestic. There

was nothing monstrous or ugly about it, even though she could imagine that might change if
he were angry.

“I wanted you to see me like this once, before you go. I didn’t want you to be surprised

when you return.” For a moment, Nikolai appeared more like a nervous puppy than a wolf.
“You are going to return, aren’t you? When you’re ready to?”

Inside, Lali sighed with relief, while outside her smile was subtle. “You’ll see me

again. Sooner rather than later.”

They said their goodbyes, which would have been less awkward had Nikolai still been

a man, but they managed. It felt like hugging a giant friendly dog, which wasn’t so bad.

“You make me want to be human again,” Nikolai murmured in her ear.
Lali glanced back only once as she left, her heart alternating between elation and

sorrow. When she was a safe distance away, she changed her shape, shifting into an animal
form suited to the desert travel ahead of her. Someday she would tell Nikolai, but not yet. She
didn’t want him to love her for this ability, for there was so much more to her than met the
eye, so much more than flesh and blood.

__________

Also by Jay Bell, The Cat in the Cradle

Dueling with mad magicians, battling possessed beasts, and surviving endless hostile

landscapes? Easy. Loving someone you weren't supposed to? That was hard.

A faceless killer terrorizes the Five Lands, one set on killing the ten Oligarchs,

masters of elemental magic. It is from this murderer that Dylan, son of the Blue Oligarch, is
forced to flee. Only Tyjinn, a brash and unpredictable bodyguard, stands between Dylan and
certain death. Rather than play it safe, Tyjinn makes an unusual proposal; to hunt the hunter.
This isn't the only unorthodox idea he puts forth as an attraction blooms between the two
young men. In the midst of uncountable obstacles and unforgiving odds, can Dylan really
afford to recognize his own feelings?

The Cat in the Cradle is Jay Bell's debut fantasy novel. The novel takes the reader on

an exploration of the Five Lands and the different realms of the strange and fantastic
Oligarchs. Each Oligarch possesses a different colored loka that enables them to wield a
unique style of magic. Dylan, aided by his talking cat Kio, must prevent the lokas from
falling into the hands of a power hungry killer before the Five Lands is brought to its knees.
The print version of The Cat in the Cradle features 25 original illustrations, one for each
chapter.

For more information, please see:

www.jaybellbooks.com

Also available for free:

The Cat in the Cradle Sketchbook

The print version of Jay Bell’s debut novel "The Cat in the Cradle" includes twenty-

five illustrations that aren't available in electronic format. Until now! Collected together with
additional concept art and commentary from the author are over fifty original fantasy images
to put your eBook device's viewing abilities to the test. Available from Smashwords and their
distribution partners.

For more information, please see:

www.jaybellbooks.com