Black Wolf s-4

by Dave Gross

  "Start from the beginning," said Talbot, glancing up through the open roof. "And make it quick. The moon is coming."

  Darrow took a breath and obeyed. He hoped his new master would be merciful.

  *****

  Talbot was quiet for a long time after Darrow finished his tale. He had told it carefully, trying not to make too much of his desire to release Maelin from captivity, but leaving unspoken his own participation in the pack's High Hunts and callous defense of their territory. Judging by Feena's steady gaze, his guilt was not forgotten, nor forgiven.

  The cleric had turned away from him only long enough to say her prayers at moonrise. Having listened carefully to Darrow's tale, she called on Selune for protections against the undead as well as spells to heal the wounded and harm the wicked. Afterward, she sat rocking slightly in a gesture that reminded Darrow of his own inner contest with the moon. She was calling to his wolf, and he had to concentrate to contain it. He had little doubt that his sudden transformation would be all the excuse Feena needed to execute him.

  If Talbot felt the call, it did not show. He sat pensively, his fingers trailing the length of the gigantic sword he held on his lap. Whatever he was thinking, he did not share with the others.

  Quickly lit a fresh bowlful of tobacco and broke the silence.

  "Werewolves and vampires," she said. "This'll make a great play when it's all done."

  Talbot began to protest, but then he sighed. "You might as well," he said. "There's no hiding it after last night."

  "I want to play this Sorcia," said a slim, androgynous woman. Darrow was astonished at her aplomb.

  "Sivana!" said Feena.

  "Can I play Tal?" said a big, goofy looking fellow. He had the size for it, if no other resemblance to the Black Wolf.

  "Not you, too, Ennis! Listen," said Feena sharply. "I know you're just trying to lighten the mood, but this doesn't help."

  "Sorry," said the man with black curls. "Tell us what we can do to help."

  "Absolutely nothing, Mallion," said Talbot. "I've already brought more than enough trouble to the playhouse. From now on, I'll deal with it on my own."

  "Not alone," warned Feena.

  "No," agreed Tal reluctantly. "I'll need your help."

  "And mine," said a short, blond man who seemed somehow out of place among the players. He stood up and winced as if injured.

  "Forget it, Chane," said Tal. "You've taken more than your share of lumps lately."

  "It's my prerogative as the best friend," said Chaney. "I'm the-what do you call it in the plays, Quickly?"

  "The male confidant," said Quickly, tossing him a wink.

  "What does that make me, fifth business?" said Sivana. She twirled a polished long sword in her hand. It shone red under the light of the continual flame brands Lommy had set on the gallery support beams and the edge of the stage. "You taught us how to fight with these, Tal. It's time we returned the favor by putting them to real use."

  Mallion agreed, stabbing one of the benches with his own blade. Quickly gave him a dire glance, and he pulled it out and hid the scar in the wood with his boot.

  "This is not a play," said Tal. "You saw what happened last night, and that was nothing compared to what happened last time Rusk was here."

  "He's got a point, dearies," said Quickly. "I was here for that, and it wasn't pretty."

  "You were down in the abyss with me the whole time," protested Chaney. "Neither of us saw anything but that nasty severed arm and the mess he made of Tal's insides."

  "I saw your insides right afterward," countered Quickly.

  "Quiet!" thundered Tal. His voice resonated throughout the playhouse, and several of the players flinched at its unexpected volume. Seeing that he had their attention, he continued. "I love you all," he said. "Except you," he amended with a cold glance at Darrow. "One wrong move, and I will throttle you."

  "I know," said Darrow.

  "Good," said Tal. "The rest of you, I appreciate the sentiment. You're closer to me than my own family-"

  "Damning us with faint praise," snorted Sivana.

  "-and twice as disagreeable," said Tal. "But there's no way I can let you-"

  "Tal Tal Tal Tal!" sang the tiny arboreal creature as it scampered down from the thatched roof. "They are here! They are here!"

  "I knew it!" said Feena. "He led them to us."

  She grasped her silver talisman and raised a finger toward him. Talbot laid a gentle hand on her arm even before Darrow protested.

  "I didn't!" he said. "It's an obvious place for them to look."

  "Who's here?" asked Mallion.

  "Who else?" said Talbot. "Dark and empty, everyone get out of here, now! It's time I dealt with Rusk for good."

  "Uh uh," said Chaney. "I'm staying."

  "Me, too," said Feena.

  Sivana and Mallion already brandished their blades, and Quickly adjusted her pipe and lifted a big spiked mace from behind one of the benches. "Sorry, sweetheart. You're a big, bad wolf, but this is still my playhouse. Nobody busts it up without coming through me."

  Seeing the resolve in her face, Talbot gave in. "All right," he said, nodding at Darrow. "You keep an eye on this one, Sivana. That sword can kill him."

  "Sugar," said Quickly, "every weapon in this house can hurt him."

  "What do you mean?" said Talbot.

  "After last year's 'incident,' I made a little investment. All the blades are silvered, and this is my fourth husband's enchanted mace. This pack of yours doesn't know what it's in for."

  Talbot stared briefly, then plucked the pipe from the big woman's mouth and kissed her full on the lips before replacing it. She blew a smoke ring at him.

  "If you're staying, then do as I say," he said to everyone. "Rusk's here for me, but we can't trust him. If he'll fight me alone, the rest of you stay back. Agreed?"

  The players and Chaney nodded reluctantly, but Feena set her chin defiantly. Tal sighed but did not challenge her.

  "If you beat him," said Darrow, "you command the pack."

  "I'll believe that when I see it," said Tal. "It sounds too easy."

  "Maybe so," said Darrow, "but they respect strength. Show them anything else, and-"

  A tremendous crash shook one of the public doors.

  Quickly hefted her mace and went through the lower gallery, where she could reach the bolt from the side. "Ready?"

  Tal checked to make sure the others were well back. Chaney and Lommy had already slunk into the shadows of the lower gallery, and Darrow stood by himself on one side of the yard. The remaining players stood with swords in guard before the stage. They made an odd trio, giant, pretty man, and manly woman. Feena stood before them, silver talisman in hand.

  Something slammed into the door again, but the bolt held.

  Tal nodded to Quickly, and she stretched over the rail to grasp the latch. With a twist and a pull, she released the bolt.

  The doors opened slowly, revealing the silhouettes of six massive wolves and a huge, one-armed man. Rusk's body surged with the unholy magic Darrow had seen him use so often before. Darrow noted Sorcia's absence and wondered briefly whether the Huntmaster had finally slain Sorcia and devoured her spirit to add to his own power. He could not decide whether her death should bring him sorrow or relief.

  They entered slowly, not with caution but with ritual deliberation. The wolves turned to either side as they entered the yard, taking positions on either side of their leader, across from the players.

  Behind the pack, the doors closed, and Quickly shot the bolt fast. No one would leave until the play was over.

  As if obeying some prearranged cue, Rusk and Tal moved forward to stand in the center of the yard. Rusk's eyes fixed on Perivel's sword. "Set that aside, Black Wolf. Our contest must be decided with tooth and claw."

  "I think not," said Tal. "The outcome of our last contest was to my liking. Perhaps this time I'll take a leg as well."

  Rusk chuckled. "You are brave, young wolf, but I do not make the sam
e mistake twice. Sorcia!"

  Quickly shouted in surprise as a white werewolf pounced on "her from the shadows. Sorcia's supple arm wrapped around the big woman's throat, the curved claws of her other hand poised to stab at Quickly"s eyes.

  Darrow realized at last what a fool he had been. Rusk had never done away with Sorcia because she was never truly rebelling against him. Instead, she had been manipulating Darrow into his own rebellion… but for what purpose, he still did not understand.

  "Throw it away," said Rusk. "Or we shall begin the evening with a different sacrifice."

  Talbot set his jaw and looked from Rusk to Quickly. Just as he was ready to cast away the sword, Feena called out, "Wait!" She brandished her talisman at Sorcia and shouted, "By the power of Selune, I repel you!" A dim light gleamed on the holy symbol, then died.

  The white werewolf's eyes widened briefly, then narrowed as her lupine jaws formed a long grin. She tightened her grip on Quickly's throat and drew two red scratches on the woman's brow. Quickly squirmed but could not break the grip.

  Rusk's laughter filled the playhouse. "Your goddess cannot help you," he roared, pointing upward. "Look!"

  The moon had risen barely above the thatched roof, but it was little more than a slender crescent.

  "The Black Moon!" announced Rusk. "Malar devours Selune tonight, and soon he will anoint his chosen avatar."

  Groans of disbelief rose from the players.

  "Spare me," said Sivana. "Another madman who thinks he missed out on all the fun of the Time of Troubles."

  "You can't be serious," said Tal, staring incredulously at Rusk. "You think your beast god will make you his avatar for killing me?"

  "Do not mock the Lord of the Hunt," growled Rusk.

  "I'm not," said Talbot. "I'm mocking you, you carpet-chewing lunatic. Killing you will be a mercy." He raised Perivel's sword, but Rusk shook a finger and pointed it at Quickly.

  Tal stuck the big blade into the ground, then shook his hands as if flicking water from them. Instantly, they grew wide and furred, each finger twice its normal length and tipped with a black claw.

  "You are the Black Wolf," said Rusk. "Behold! The prophecy is fulfilled!" He sang a short prayer to Malar, and his own hand grew similarly large and wicked. Before he was finished, Talbot had moved in to attack. He stopped short at a cry from Quickly.

  The white werewolf fought an unseen attacker in the shadows of the gallery. Quickly fell out of Sorcia's grasp, one beefy hand rubbing her throat while the other sought her fallen weapon. Before Talbot could react to the new attack, Rusk was upon him.

  The Huntmaster lunged low, raking Talbot's thigh to leave a deep, wet wound. Before he could escape, Talbot grabbed a handful of Rusk's long gray hair and held him fast. His punch was too quick to see. All Darrow could see was a blur, the jerk of Rusk's head, and a spray of blood.

  From the gallery, a thin voice cried out in terror. Lommy fled from Sorcia's grasp after distracting her. It was all the time Quickly needed to swing her mace at the white werewolf. Sorcia barely dodged the blow, leaping over the benches to seek shelter in the deeper shadows. Instead, she found another hidden lurker and shrieked angrily at an unexpected stab.

  "Ha!" crowed Chancy, realizing he no longer had the advantage of surprise.

  He came scrambling out of the dark gallery with Sorcia in pursuit, shifting to four legs as she came. The wound on her shoulder bled freely.

  In the yard, the wolves and players alike joined the melee. Feena tried again to evoke the blessing of her goddess, and this time a wan silver light glowed briefly around her and all her allies. Even if she could not compel the werewolves to flee, she was not powerless.

  In the center of it all, Rusk and Talbot rolled on the ground. Despite his missing arm and his opponent's great strength, Rusk was still the stronger. The infernal energy that coursed through his body broke every grip Talbot secured, then buffeted the younger werewolf mercilessly.

  To the west, Mallion and Sivana fought back-to-back. A half dozen wolves surrounded them, darting in for quick bites before fleeing the burning points of their blades. Sivana cut out an eye and gave two other wolves searing wounds with her silvered sword. Mallion stood over the body of one he managed to pierce through the heart. The injured wolf still breathed, but it was dying.

  By the stage, Ennis warded off two snarling wolves with wide swipes of his silvered long sword as Feena chanted another spell. Behind them, Chaney dashed across the stage with Sorcia at his heels. A pot of greasepaint burst just in front of the white wolf, making her veer away. Far above, Lommy hissed at her as he swung hand to hand from the open trapdoors of the heavens.

  Darrow turned wildly around, unable to decide which conflict to join-or even which side to take. Rusk might consider him a traitor, even though it was clear now that Rusk had used him from the start, manipulating his fears and desires through Sorcia. Would Rusk let him live after killing Talbot? Darrow could no more expect mercy from Rusk than he could from Feena, whose mother he had helped murder.

  Before he could decide, Karnek shifted from four legs to two, rising up to threaten Ennis. The distraction drew the player's eyes from Brigid, who darted between his legs and knocked him to the ground. In an instant, Karnek was at his throat, and the other wolves rushed past to overwhelm Feena.

  Darrow leaped to intercept them, transforming as he flew through the air. The shift came more easily than ever before, and he landed in half-wolf form, growling a warning.

  Brigid bit his leg and held fast, shaking her head to tear his sinews. Darrow smashed her head with both fists, loosening her grip but not breaking it. Before he could land another blow, Karnek crashed into him, bearing him to the ground.

  "Traitor!" growled Karnek. He opened his wide lupine jaws to rip out Barrow's throat. Just as Darrow closed his eyes he felt teeth pierce his flesh, Karnek's head was knocked aside by a powerful blow. Darrow looked up to see Quickly standing above him, gripping her mace in both hands.

  "Get up and make yerself useful," she said, still holding the pipe between her teeth.

  Darrow tried to get up, but someone knocked him flat again. He saw a glimpse of white fur and heard Quickly scream. Feena yelled out a warning, but it was too late. By the time Darrow recovered, he saw Sorcia and Karnek both tearing at Quickly's body.

  When the big woman stopped moving, both wolves turned to Darrow, their muzzles steeped in blood.

  Chapter 20

  Packs

  Tarsakh, 1372 DR

  Tal heard his friends' screams, but he could not break free to help them. Rusk's single arm was charged with infernal energy, making it more powerful than both of Tal's combined. Worse yet, while Tal had only recently learned the trick of transforming at will, Rusk had known it for over fifty years. His jaws elongated when he willed, tearing into Tal's shoulders and face, only to shrink back again so he could slam his forehead into Tal's face.

  If he could regain the sword, Tal had no doubt he could end this conflict in a few seconds. Rusk must have realized the same thing, for he clung to Tal even when TaPs claws pulled ribbons from his arm and chest. Instead of avoiding the attacks, Rusk tried overbearing Tal, pinning him against the ground. Despite his inhuman strength, Rusk could not maintain a hold without the use of two arms.

  "Quickly!" screamed Sivana.

  Tal strained his neck to see what had happened. Rusk sank long teeth into the side of his face, tearing his cheek and an ear. Tal whipped his head to turn the wolfs jaws aside, then shifted himself completely to wolf form. The transformation came so quickly that it surprised even Rusk, and Tal slipped free of his opponent.

  He had only a second to look around before Rusk was on him again. In that instant, he saw Quickly's body lying ruined on the ground. Above her, Sivana and Mallion fought a losing battle against four werewolves. Nearby, Feena climbed onto the stage to avoid a trio of werewolves fighting amongst themselves.

  Without looking, Tal knew that Rusk had leaped toward him again. He dropped to
the ground and rolled away. The impact was nothing compared to the punishment he'd already received, but it drove his anger more firmly into his heart. He felt a fury overcome him and welcomed it. It brought no fear this time, only hot resolve to kill Rusk and all his brood.

  He rolled up to his feet in half-human form just as Rusk turned to rush him again. This time Tal met his charge, both clawed hands reaching for Rusk's throat. The collision threatened to decapitate both werewolves, as their long claws sank into each other's throats.

  Tal's painful grimace was mirrored in Rusk's lunatic grin. The Huntmaster's face was a mask of rapture. Tal's fingers closed more and more tightly, squeezing the breath out of him even as Rusk's own hand crushed his throat. Just as his vision blurred into a rain of red sparks, Tal felt Rusk's hand fall away from his throat just as the man's heavy body dropped to the floor. Tal almost turned away when he saw the Huntmaster's eyes move. They flicked up toward the eclipsed moon.

  Tal followed Rusk's gaze to see the black disc completely obscure Selune. For a moment, only the trailing shards were visible in her wake.

  The werewolves ceased their attacks, backing away from the surviving players. Ennis clutched a wounded arm to his chest, and Mallion bled from three or four wounds, but only Quickly lay dead. Feena knelt by her body, holding her useless hands above the mortal wounds. She turned toward Tal, her face twisted with grief and helplessness. Tal realized she must be thinking of Maleva's death.

  A hoarse whisper called Tal's attention back to Rusk.

  "The Black Wolf prevails," he rasped. "The pack is… yours…" His whispering became too faint to hear. He beckoned weakly for Tal to lean close.

  "Do it!" said a sweet voice. The white wolf had resumed her elven form. With the moon veiled in Toril's shadow, the firelight colored her pale body. "The pack needs a strong leader."

  Tal looked back down at the Huntmaster. Rusk's lips were moving, but even Tal's keen ears could not make out the words. Reluctantly, he knelt beside Rusk and put his ear close to the Huntmaster's lips.