Meta Gods War

by B N Miles

  The wolf took a step back and stopped snarling. It stared at him for a moment longer.

  “Here, wolf!” he shouted again.

  The creature turned and trotted off into the trees.

  There was a clatter of activity behind Cam as he took a few steps down the cart path. Shouts went up along the line, calling out Wolves! Wolves! and he risked a glance back to see the villagers in the back running forward as more men came toward him, some carrying wooden shields. More shields were passed forward as men joined him, Marap and Brith taking positions to either side of Cam.

  A shield was shoved into his hands, a round wooden buckler made of rough-hewn timbers and two tight leather straps. It was large enough to cover his midsection and part of the man to his side as he leveled his spear and got his left arm through the straps. Brith and Marap leaned forward, adopting the stance Cam’s father had taught them, shield covering half of their chest plus the man to their left.

  A line formed up in moments, with Cam in its center, and eight men across. It went back three lines deep, and Cam heard heavy breathing from the bodies around him as Dagan’s voice joined the chorus.

  “Camrus!” he barked. “Camrus, call out.”

  “Here!” Cam said. The forest was still and the wolf was gone, but he knew what he saw. Sweat dripped down his back and made his palms slick. He worked his fingers, making sure his grip was firm on his father’s spear, the bronze head sharp enough to rip through flesh like wheat.

  He heard the ranks behind him open and he felt Dagan at his back. “What did you see?” he asked.

  “Wolf, directly behind us,” he said.

  “Just one?”

  “Yes,” Cam confirmed. “He watched me for a moment, snarled, made sure I saw him, then ran off.”

  “Ur’s tits,” Dagan growled. “That could’ve been a distraction.”

  “Form more ranks on either side of the caravan,” Cam said. “Pull the wagons together. Get them moving.”

  Dagan relayed the order and more men took it up. Cam stared down the track, not moving a muscle, but he heard shouts and commotion behind them.

  The lines behind them thinned out as the men spread themselves along the length of the caravan. Cam’s group marched backwards toward the carts, getting into a tighter position closer to the main group. Cam glanced over his shoulder and saw women on top of the carts, bows out and arrows notched, kneeling and squinting out into the forest.

  Nobody moved. Cam took deep, calming breaths, and wished his father were still alive to help them. He’d know what to do—he’d be able to get them into the right positions. As it were, they had the carts pulled up close and the bulk of the village nestled in the center, with the men forming a loose, broken ring around the villagers.

  The forest was silent. Cam could feel the men beside him bouncing from foot to foot to keep loose. Tension could drop a man before a battle as sure as an arrow in the throat. Cam forced himself to continue taking calming breaths, to keep his muscles from tensing too much. For long moments, he second-guessed himself, terrified that he’d made the wrong call. Maybe it was an actual wolf, or maybe it was just a scout trying to scare him. Maybe he’d wasted all this time for nothing.

  But there was a shout on Cam’s right flank and a scream as something broke out of the woods. “Hold!” Cam shouted at the men around him as they started to shift toward the shouting. “Hold, damn you!”

  Cam clenched his jaw as four wolves appeared on the cart track directly opposite them, coming up toward their rear. Arrows shot forth from the women on the carts but missed as the wolves began to trot toward them. Cam dug his back foot into the dirt behind him as Brith and Marap did the same.

  “Steady,” he growled. “Let them come then gut them.”

  “Shit, shit, shit,” he heard Marap whisper to himself. “Oh fuck oh shit.”

  “Steady,” Cam said again as more arrows flew through the air. One landed home, slicing down the side of the wolf on the far left. It yelped and darted into the woods as the other three began to sprint at the group.

  Cam waited until the first wolf was within spear distance and thrust. He sliced along the wolf’s face, causing it to scream and snarl before it slammed against his shoulder. He grunted as the wolf snapped and tore at the wooden buckler. He heard screams to either side of him and more shouting as Marap began to thrust his spear at something.

  Brith staggered to the side, blood spurting from a wound in his neck. Cam shoved the wolf on his shield in the gut and gained some distance. He brought his spear around to crack it against the skull of the wolf tearing at Brith’s throat. Blood poured from the wolf’s jaw, but it rolled off Brith as Cam spun his weapon around and drove the point into the wolf’s neck.

  The original wolf smashed into Cam, and as he wrestled it away, its jaw chomping at his face, he felt something press against the back of his mind. It was that darkness, that meditative state his father always spoke of. It was a calm he didn’t know he had deep inside of him, and as Cam reached out to embrace it, he felt the stillness wash over him. His limbs relaxed and his muscles flexed as he pushed back against the wolf again, bringing his spear up to slice its face. The creature staggered and growled as Cam whipped the spear around and smashed the side of its shaft against its skull. It skittered away, staggering and bleeding. Cam stepped forward and thrust, catching the wolf on the side as it tried to flee, spearing it clean through.

  He heard another shout and a scream as he ripped his spear free. With the dark calm still wrapped around his mind, something else began to hint at his awareness, something just out of reach. As he staggered back into line, he thought he might be able to touch it, might be able to draw it into himself if only he could keep calm, keep the dark meditative state wrapped around his body.

  But then he saw another wolf on Marap, trying to tear at the man’s face, pinned back by his shield. Two other men brought their spears down on the wolf, stabbing it again and again until it rolled down to the side, slumping into the dirt, blood pooling around it’s dropped form. Cam rallied himself and added his spear to the group, and they stabbed until it stopped flailing, its lifeblood pumping out of multiple wounds. Cam turned, falling back into formation. Shields came up on either side of him as his spear leveled flat and steady, his hands calm and his mind still clear. The last wolf backed off, multiple cuts down its body, and fled just before an arrow slammed into a tree right next to its face.

  “Line!” Cam shouted. “Line, damn it, line!”

  He felt the rest of the men form up. Brith was down and not moving, and Cam felt the man’s blood soaking his boots. He chanted at the men near him and got them to pull back toward the wagons, their line moving in a loose formation, keeping time together. He turned away from their rear and saw the line on their left flank fighting desperately against four more wolves, with several others prowling to the side, dodging arrows that rained down from the carts. Two men were already down, their screams piercing the air, as the sounds of bodies slamming against wooden shields, wolves screaming and snarling in pain, men shouting and women screaming from their perches ripped the air to pieces and threatened Cam’s calm.

  “With me!” Cam said and turned away, breaking rank, forcing himself to drop back into that dark ease. The men came with him, Marap right on his side holding a broken spear, the jagged end pointed outward. He was bleeding from his shield arm and breathing hard, but his jaw was set and his eyes were hard as they slammed into the wolves from the side.

  Cam jammed a spear into the guts of the closest wolf, ripping it off a downed man. He pulled the spear back as the men took up positions next to him. They marched forward, stabbing and chanting in time with each other like Cam’s father had taught them. More wolves hit the lines down the flank but Cam’s line kept going, sweeping them off downed warriors and forcing the wolves back into the woods. Any Were that didn’t turn was pierced through and slaughtered.

  The wolves growled and snapped, but fell back from the besieged flank. The
men that were still standing staggered back behind Cam’s line, and the men that had fallen stayed on the ground. Cam stepped in puddles of blood-soaked mud, the grass churned up and torn from wolf paw and Human boot.

  Arrows whizzed through the air. It was chaos, and Cam’s breath came ragged. The calm he’d felt just moments before was beginning to fray as the disorientation of battle threatened to sweep over him. He pressed on, unable to stop himself, unable to stop the tide of men on either side as they stomped their feet and thrust their spears. The wolves had hit them hard, and only three of them had nearly broken Cam’s line.

  As he moved his line forward, sweeping along the flank and clearing away any wolves left fighting, he realized that their long spears weren’t effective against the wolves due to their ability to close in on them so quickly. He needed to come up with an alternative battle plan, and he needed to do it before the next fight.

  Cheers broke out through the afternoon as the wolves began to retreat. He saw wolf corpses and Human corpses on the ground, bleeding from punctures and slashes. One wolf tried to limp away and took an arrow to the throat. Cam turned and grinned as Theus’s mother nodded at him and notched another arrow, her eyes narrowed in concentration and scanning the forest for another target.

  But the fighting was over. Cam let out an anguished roar of anger and lust, his exhaustion ripping through him, that black calm completely dissipated and gone. He dropped his shield and leaned against his spear, staring at the carnage around him.

  Bodies littered the ground. Shields were smashed into the dirt and spears were snapped in half. Even the nearest cart had claw marks from a wolf that had broken through the line, only to take several arrows at close range in his angry maw.

  They survived. Barely, and with losses, but there seemed to be just as many wolves down as there were Humans. That was a good sign, at least.

  “Cam!” Theus broke through a group of men. Blood streaked his face and his shield was broken at the top. He threw the shield down as a grin broke across his face. “You’re okay!”

  “I’m fine,” Cam said. “But you’re bleeding.” He reached out to touch his friend but stopped himself.

  Theus blinked then put his fingers to his face. “Oh,” he said. “Not mine.”

  Cam nodded and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Key?”

  “In the front. I don’t know… I’m not sure how they fared.” He clenched his jaw and his eyes moved over the carnage. “That was…” He trailed off as words failed him.

  Cam didn’t speak either, just steered him away from the bodies.

  Together, they marched up along the column. The villagers were coming out, pulling the injured back into the safety of the carts. Indri was treating men, instructing people on how to close wounds, her face drawn and haggard as she ripped cloth into pieces to make bandages and hurriedly pulled herbs from a pouch at her belt. Cam saw Yarin on the ground, breathing hard and staring up at the sky, Godug holding his arm against his chest, and countless other men he’d grown up with leaning against their spears and the carts, sweating, bloody, and exhausted.

  But they were alive.

  Cam found Key standing among the survivors of the front line with Dagan, Arter, and Kraed deep in conversation. She ran over to the pair of them and threw her arms around Cam, hugging him tightly. She was slick with sweat and her spear tip was drenched in gore as she let it fall from her fingers. Her body pressed against Cam, and it reminded him why he was going through all this in the first place. It was his family, his people, and they needed him just as much as he needed them.

  She broke off, her hair wild with flyaways, and grinned at him. “You made it,” she said.

  “You too. Looks like you were busy.”

  She glanced at her spear and shrugged. “I did my part.”

  “Glad you’re okay, too,” Theus said.

  She grinned at him and knocked him on his shoulder with her fist. “I knew you’d get through it, with a skull as thick as yours.”

  He laughed and let out a breath. “What are the Elders saying?”

  “Not much,” she said. “They’re discussing next steps. Arter wants to rest and let the wounded heal. Dagan is pushing to keep moving.”

  “Dagan’s right,” Cam said. “But we’ll let them work it out for once. I’m sick of Arter’s complaining, and I could use a drink.”

  Theus laughed and threw an arm around Cam’s shoulders. “Drinks for all of us then,” he said.

  Key laughed but pushed them apart. “First, we help the wounded. Then we can drink.”

  Cam nodded and rubbed at his face. “You’re right. Getting ahead of myself. I’m just happy we’re all okay.”

  Theus stretched his arms and looked around. “All right. Let’s go help.”

  Key patted Theus on the shoulder then set out toward the nearest group. Cam followed and gave Theus a little grin. “She’ll make us both better men if we ever learn to listen,” Cam said.

  “You, maybe,” Theus answered with a laugh. “I’ll always be a lousy bastard.”

  They hurried to catch up with Key, the elation of survival running down Cam’s spine.

  15

  Blood ran in soft pink rivulets from Cam’s skin as he splashed water onto his face and chest. His father’s leather armor was spread out to dry in the sun and his tunic was hanging from a tree. He wore only his leather breeches, and he scrubbed at them with his fingers, getting out as much dirt and grime as he could.

  His body ached. The first moments after that fight had been full of elation, and Cam was just happy that he’d survived and so many of his fellow villagers had made it through. But as soon as he began to help Key and the others pull the dead and wounded away from the edge of the carts, the true horror of the attack began to sink in.

  They lost twelve warriors. Fourteen wolves were left on the ground, and Cam estimated that they’d defended against at least thirty in total. If that was only their initial attack, just a test of their resolve and their defenses, then Cam was horrified of what they would bring next.

  And he wondered if they’d survived at all if it weren’t for that first wolf.

  He kept thinking about it, how it just stood there in the middle of the path. It stared at him and didn’t seem aggressive at all. He was like in a dream watching that creature, and he had almost been tempted to walk toward the animal. When it growled at him, the dream state broke, and he called his men to order.

  That was when the wolf left, and the attack came moments later.

  It was like the Were had been trying to warn him.

  He let out a sigh and splashed more water in his face. He stood in a shallow stream, just deep enough to reach mid-shins. His toes curled around the slick, smooth river rocks. The cool mountain spring water was as delicious as it was cold, but he didn’t care. He needed to quickly wash away the dirt and blood. The column was still moving, and he needed to make it back in time to rest before he took his customary second shift.

  A sudden noise in the bushes nearby snapped Cam out of his thoughts. He turned and reached for the bronze spear leaning against some rocks, but it was out of reach. He began to splash toward it, taking high stomping steps through the water, but stopped himself as the bushes parted and Key stepped through.

  She stared down at Cam for a moment and he gave a sigh of relief. “Key,” he said. “I thought you were a wolf.”

  “Sorry.” She came down to the stream’s edge and perched on some rocks near the leather armor. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s fine.” He splashed some water on his chest again. “I just needed to wash off.”

  She nodded. “The blood. It starts to smell.”

  “Nobody told me that,” he said, voice low. “I mean, I know blood smells, but it starts to stink when it sits out in the sun for too long.”

  “There’s a lot about war we don’t know,” Key said, frowning. “In the line earlier, I thought I might run, I was so afraid.” She shook her head and stared at
the water. She dipped her fingers into the stream and let the water drip back down, making ripples as it splashed. “I never thought I’d be scared like that, but it was horrifying, just waiting for them to come.”

  “I felt it too,” Cam said. He stretched his arms behind him, working out a kink in his shoulder. “Men were praying and terrified around me. I tried to reach for my father’s meditative state, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head, relaxing his arms.

  “You’ll find it,” she said and they lapsed into silence for a moment. Key ran her fingers through the water and stared at it, clearly thinking back to the fight. Cam didn’t want to relive it, didn’t want to see men fall under the wolves’ teeth, didn’t want to feel his spear rip through their bodies. He’d do what he had to do, and he was good at it, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed killing or watching his friends get killed.

  “Come in the water,” he said. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

  She hesitated and looked up at him. He met her gaze and his eyes drifted down her body again. She sat back and began to take off her boots. Cam watched her put them next to his own, the leather worn from a dark deep tan to a soft caramel. She flexed her toes and put her hair up, tying it off with a leather thong, then hesitated as her hands came to her tunic.

  Cam couldn’t take his eyes off her. They’d bathed together a thousand times over the years, though mostly when they were children. As they got older and Key’s body developed, she stopped coming to the river to bathe with Cam and Theus. They teased her about it at first, until Cam’s father whacked him on the head with an unstrung bow and told him not to be a pig-fucking moron. Cam stopped making jokes at Key’s expense after that.

  He moved closer to her through the water. He took a deep breath and could smell the fresh grass, the cool rocks. The river silt beneath his toes felt nice, squishing up with each step. He stopped a foot away from her. He knelt down and looked in her eyes as she stared back, hands still lingering on her tunic.

  He reached out and put his hand over hers. He worked his fingers until the button came loose. She leaned back slowly, leaning on her hands, and Cam moved closer. Using both hands, he unbuttoned her tunic, top to bottom, until it hung open.