by Jon Kiln
20
Artas continued to play his part, contributing where he was instructed. Although he slept deeply at night, he was still so very tired all the time. The medic had confirmed there was nothing physically wrong with him, so Ganry had no real reason to send him back, not that he wanted to. He knew that sending him back would do nothing but harm to Artas’s reputation, and that served no purpose. Ganry just hoped that in time, Artas would shrug off whatever it was that ailed him.
After a few uneventful days of traveling through Palara, they were nearing the Slohal Prairie. The route took them past a huge stretch of water, Lake Gomaran, and Ganry felt it a good place to camp. The lake waters would allow them the luxury of bathing, something they had not been able to do since they set off.
Camp was soon set up and food cooking on fires. Most of the men bathed in the lake, grateful to be washing away days of road grime. The atmosphere in the camp was relaxed and jovial, with good food and even a little wine. Soon, they were settling into their bedrolls for the night. Most had been apprehensive about their quest, having heard they were to enter the wolf territory. None had ever been there before. Tonight, what lay before them concerned no one. They were happy to be clean, well fed and relaxed. Guard duty was light with only two men at a time on night watch.
Even Ganry, for the first time since he had returned to Palara, felt at ease and was soon fast asleep. Though as always with Ganry, his senses, tuning in for any dangers, remained alert, even when he slept. He felt nothing could threaten them here. They were still well inside Palara’s borders.
The night watch walked the perimeter every hour, starting at the same point together and going in opposite directions before ending back up at the point they had started from. They had just returned from a perimeter check, and it was almost time to be relieved by the next Watch. Sitting down with their backs to the lake, one of them pulled out his pouch of tobacco and filled his pipe. Alighting it to share, they sat quietly chatting, unwinding for their turn to sleep.
The lake was large enough to create its own tide, and the shore line lapped by the gentle ripples of movement in the water, lulling the guards into a relaxed state.
They were so deeply engrossed in their shared smoke, that neither of them heard the sounds of footsteps emerging from the water. Shadowy figures approached them, unseen, from the lake.
Suddenly, looming over them were a large number of creatures, dripping wet. Too late, they realized the danger, as one of the creatures grappled with a guard before biting deeply into his neck. The soldier screamed in agony as his life’s blood spurted from the huge gaping wound. The other soldier, terrified at the sight of what looked like dead men walking, was frozen to the spot with fear. In no time, he was completely overcome by a number of the creatures who ripped and bit at his exposed skin.
The screams from the last dying soldiers alerted the others in the camp, and soon everyone was on their feet, swords in hands.
Ganry, instantly upon hearing the scream, leapt out of his bedroll, WindStorm ready for the attack. Even he gasped at the sight that unfolded in front of him. By the dim light of the campfire he could see the creatures attacking his men. They were same as the undead he had witnessed in Mirnee, with grey, colorless skin, hanging in tatters to show exposed bones. Wide eyes, bloodshot and lifeless. On the floor lay two of his men, what was left of them, their ravaged bodies surrounded by the creatures who seemed to be feeding on their flesh.
One among them still slept despite the carnage. Artas was in a deep dream, a beautiful woman dancing provocatively before him. As he tried to approach her, she seemed constantly out of range. He started to run, to catch her up, but she was always just out of reach. In the back of his mind he could hear the sounds of battle, but whenever he tried to concentrate on them, the beautiful woman came close enough to touch. Then, when he reached out to touch her, she was gone again. Looking around, whichever way he turned his head, all he saw was the dancing woman. What was she hiding from him? He knew something was happening. He was needed, but he could not break this mesmerizing spell radiating from the woman of beauty before him.
There was no clanging of swords, for the dead did not parry with weapons. They simply used their hands and teeth. This was an army without command and also without feeling. The dead were not scared, they felt no horror or fear. They simply had a constant hunger, a hunger to feed on the living as if that might impart on them some of the life they had lost. They continued to swarm out of the lake, and soon the soldiers were surrounded by ungodly bodies of putrefaction.
In unison, they all opened their mouths unnaturally wide, gaping dark pits that filled even the bravest of soldiers with fear. A high pitched wail, deafening to the living, emanated from their gaping mouths, transfixing everyone where they stood. Unable to move, even to raise their swords in defense, the creatures advanced slowly on the defenseless men.
Ganry, using all his willpower, forced his mind to cut out the deafening screech. Once he fought off the paralysis, he barked out orders. “Their heads, cut off their heads, it’s the only way!”
His words spurred on the rest of his men, the spell broken by his rallying cry. Soon all were attacking the undead creatures, swinging their weapons down in an arc, detaching heads from bodies. Though the dead outnumbered the living by ten to one, it did not take long for the soldiers to work their way through them. They were cumbersome in movement, slow and ungainly. They offered no defense when attacked, instead just moving relentlessly forward. By the end, a few of the troops were injured, but thankfully no others were lost.
The soldiers left standing gathered the dead together in a pile and set them alight. The flames burned a bright orange and blue, unlike any flame they had seen before. After what they had witnessed this evening, nothing surprised them. Everyone gathered around the pyre, watching as the creatures burned, which they did so remarkably easily. Covering their mouths and noses against the stench, the heap of bodies was nothing more than a pile of ashes in no time.
Ganry, satisfied they were safe for now, looked for Riley to plan their next move, but he was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Artas. He quickly went to Artas’s tent and there he also found Riley, leaning over the young nobleman.
“He has slept through the whole event,” Riley said, confusion on his face. “I’m not even sure he sleeps, but yet still he breathes.”
Ganry bent down to inspect Artas. Not only did the he sleep deeply, he slept with his eyes open. He spoke his name and roughly shook him. “Artas, come on, wake up you lazy dog.”
Artas’s eyes slowly shut. He brought up his hand to rub them. When he opened them again, he was finally awake.
“Ganry, I had the strangest of dreams. What is happening to me?”
“I don’t know, boy, the world has gone crazy,” Ganry said, sighing with relief that he was conscious. Just for a moment there, he thought he might not ever waken. “One thing I do know, wherever those dead are, the witches aren’t far away. That means they have infiltrated the border to get this far. You can bet that General Jeon is among them. It’s time for us to be moving. Refresh yourself, Artas, we’re riding out.”
21
The incident by the lake had unsettled everyone’s nerves. With the horses jittery and the men constantly on alert, all jumped at every unexpected sound. They rode along in silence, only the beat of the horses hooves could be heard, each man staring stoically ahead. No one had ever faced fighting a walking corpse before and many of the men were still in shock.
Ganry was silent, deep in his own thoughts. He pondered on how the General knew his location, because surely he must? That attack was not a random event, of this he was sure. He was surprised that the General was so close to him, so soon. They needed to increase their urgency and find the child as quickly as possible.
If Jeon was somehow keeping tabs on him, then it seemed likely to Ganry that they had a traitor in the camp, but who? Was it was Riley? Perhaps it was. He hardly knew the man and yet he had be
en willing to trust him. If it was Riley, how was he passing information on? He never seemed to go missing. Whenever Ganry had looked for him he was always close by.
Finally, early the next day they arrived on the border of the Slohal Prairie. It was easy to know when you arrived as the whole terrain changed drastically. They were now surrounded by a flat, featureless land for miles around. Ganry had never been here before, few humans had. The Wolves protected their privacy and uninvited guests were not welcome. There existed a few maps of the area and Ganry looked at one with Riley, determining the direction they needed to go.
“According to this, Ganry,” Riley said, pointing at the map, “we have to go much further into the prairie before we find the rocky crags where the wolves make their dens.”
“Then it’s best we start straightaway. Give the men an hour, and then we move off.”
Riley nodded his agreement and returned to the men with the new instructions.
After a brief rest they mounted up again, moving deeper into the Slohal Plains. Ganry kept a close eye on Riley. He had to know if he was the traitor. It would be disappointing if he was. Ganry had a growing respect for the mercenary. He was brave and fought well, a good ally to have by your side. But, for the General to know their location, someone had to be passing him information. Other than Riley, all the rest of his men he knew personally, and he trusted them all.
They rode throughout the day, only stopping briefly to rest the horses at the occasional water well along the way. At nightfall, they crossed a river and Ganry decided it a good place to rest for the night. He would have personally preferred to continue until they reached their destination, but it had been a long hard day, especially after the horrors of the night before. The men needed to rest.
The soldiers were grateful to be stopping, but they were nervous of the water. No one took the opportunity to bathe as they all watched the river warily. Ganry had increased the night watch duty to six men. They were not going to get caught out again.
He looked over at Artas who was already wrapped up and sleeping in his bedroll. What was with him? He had never behaved like this before. He would ask a shaman of the wolves to look at him when they finally met them. The wolf shamans were legendary as healers. There was nothing Ganry could do tonight, so an early night was a good idea. Soon the camp echoed with the snores of sleeping soldiers.
Riley had been stationed on night duty, and he sat looking up at the clear half silver moon when something rustled in a nearby hedge. He stood up to approach the bush, but two red eyes shone back at him. The deep guttural growling noise coming from the bush told him that they had met the wolves, at last. The low growls woke the men who, after the previous day’s experience, were all keenly alert. They knew that Ganry was seeking the wolves. Well, it seemed that the wolves had found him first.
Ganry walked over to the edge of camp and called out to the wolves that had come closer and made themselves seen. He was struck by the sheer size of them, much bigger than any he had ever seen before. They were huge, with thick fur coats and teeth which seemed unnaturally large. The eyes of each wolf shone and glimmered in the darkness, reds, golds, silvers, all reflecting from the eyes that watched the men.
“My name is Ganry de Rosenthorn,” he said loudly so the wolves would hear his words. He knew they understood him, for these were not just any wolves, but men too. “I come on your lands as an emissary for Queen Myriam. I need to speak with the alpha. I am here on a mission of great urgency.”
As he finished speaking, the wolves could be heard to howl in unison. Then, by a large tree behind the pack, the silhouette of a man could be seen approaching them.
“I am Blaez, and I bid you welcome to the lands of the wolves, Ganry de Rosenthorn. I am Captain of this unit and we are the border guards. Before I can take you further into our lands, do you have any authentication of who you are?”
The man was clearly a warrior, with heavy muscles that moved with an easy grace. He was huge in height and easily towered over Ganry. Though Ganry felt no fear of any man, he would not wish to do battle with the Captain of the border guards. The hair on his head was long, thick and wavy, hanging loosely around his broad shoulders. Surprisingly, there were no signs of hair on the Captain’s body. Instead, where his skin was exposed, it was tanned and slick, shining in the moonlight.
“I have the Queen’s ring, this is proof of my mission,” Ganry said, producing the large ring with the stamp of the Palaran flag, depicting a golden eagle flying over water.
Blaez nodded his agreement as he recognized the insignia.
“We are wary of strangers at the moment, more so than usual,” Blaez explained. “There have been reports of strange men on our borders, and they are not Palaran. Do you know of them, Ganry de Rosenthorn?”
“I do, Captain, as we have also been in conflict with them on another border. First, I will need to speak to the territorial alpha. My need is urgent, but also secretive. You must understand my caution.”
“If these strange events are connected, then the sooner you speak with Raff, our leader, the better, so we can deal with whatever you bring to our lands.”
Ganry felt a pang of guilt, even though it wasn’t their fault that they had brought the undead here. They would have come eventually.
“Shall I stir the men ready to leave?” his own army commander asked of him.
“No, I will go alone for now,” Ganry replied, and followed the large wolf man into the dark.
22
The wolves that remained surrounded the soldiers. They were wary of strangers and didn’t want them wandering around freely, not until they were certain they could be trusted.
“I hope they’re on our side,” one of the soldiers remarked to Riley as he sat watching the beasts, circling their group.
“They are fascinating, don’t you think?” Riley replied, but more to himself.
“I might say that, once I’m out of here and I’m recalling the memory to my children,” the soldier, known as Ben, said nervously. “But, right now I would say I am terrified, rather than fascinated.”
“I think they are not our enemy,” Riley tried to reassure him. “I think if they meant us harm, they would have done so by now.”
Riley spoke to the man without taking his eyes off the patrolling wolves. He thought them beautiful. To think they had human form, made them a true wonder of nature. As they spoke, a curious wolf approached them, sniffing the air before it.
“Hey there,” he said, in a calm voice. It seemed the wolf was as curious about him as he was about them.
The wolf walked slowly around him, constantly smelling at the air, occasionally the ground, too. After a full circle, the wolf was back in front of him, staring intently. Riley had a sudden feeling that this was a female. Its features seemed softer than some of the others, and it was smaller too. He reached out his hand to stroke the long fur, but the wolf stepped back, growling low and showing its teeth. He sensed no threat in its eyes, and in fact, they seemed almost amused.
Then a big wolf came close by and growled at her. She turned to leave, but not before squatting down and urinating on the ground close to Riley. She then trotted off, only looking back once, and Riley swore to himself she had a smile on her face. It seemed that she might be a young and rebellious wolf, and the older one had come to reprimand her.
That set his thoughts to Artas, and he stood up to go and find out where and what Ganry’s young protégé was up to. He too was worried about him and whether he was fit enough to continue with this quest.
***
Ganry rode on horseback, following a small pack of wolves who took him to a subterranean compound. There was no other way to describe it. This pack lived as humans, and not wolves, for there were large doorways leading to living chambers. He watched on, amazed, as they all reverted to their human form before descending into the den. It happened so quickly that Ganry could not describe the transformation at all. One minute they were wolves, the next they were human.<
br />
They walked past a huge door and into a chamber that led downwards in a spiral. Arriving at a huge chamber, he noted that in the center was a large hole. This was a well, their water supply, and it also seemed to be a central point for the community.
“My name is Nuntis. I guard you until Raff arrives. You are lucky he was close by, your wait will be short,” the man said to Ganry.
Ganry simply nodded his understanding and seated himself on the dusty ground, crossing his legs for comfort. This helped him relax. Entering into a den of wolves was not an easy task. He had heard many stories of the shape changers, most of them good. They were a secret folk and acts of aggression were rare, unless attacked. Their prowess in battle was legendary, and many Palaran kings of past had used the wolves to good effect, helping to defend the borders against attackers. He was still nervous. This was their land, and humans were not really welcome.
Nuntis was true to his word and within an hour, Raff, the alpha to this territory, entered the chamber.
“I see you are followed by troubled creatures,” Raff said as he put out a huge hand to greet Ganry.
They shook hands, a Palaran tradition of friendship. Ganry noticed that Raff was not a young man. He was someone of experience and knowledge.
“What are these walking corpses of humans? I have never set eyes on them before,” Raff asked.
“Neither had I until recently. We must talk,” Ganry requested. “I have much to tell you and a favor to ask of your people.”
“Come, we will go to my chamber where I can freshen up. I have been out on a hunt of these strange armies on my borders. I will be grateful for information, for they are hard to stop.”
