by Amy Cross
Lucas nodded. "I'll bow to your greater experience, General Chaucer. You know these werewolves better than anyone".
"That I do!" Chaucer roared. "Believe me. I've been tricked by those vermin enough times to know that I have to be extra careful. I made sure to see their deaths with my own eyes". He smiled. He had waited so long for this moment of total victory, he wouldn't allow anyone to deny him the chance to enjoy his glory. This Captain Lucas fellow had a fearsome reputation in the British Army, but if he thought he could just roll up when the battle was over and share in the credit, he was mistaken. "I understand your caution, Lucas," Chaucer went on. "These werewolves were tricky buggers. But they're dead now. All of them".
Lucas nodded. "You'll be in line for a serious promotion after this," he said. "Her Majesty has wanted the werewolves dead for many years, and you're the man who finally got the job done".
"It wasn't easy," said Chaucer.
"No-one under-estimates the challenge you faced," Lucas said. "This Duncan individual, in particular, sounds like he was extremely difficult to pin down".
"He certainly was," said Chaucer. "In some ways, I'll miss the challenge. He was a formidable enemy. But I got him in the end. I got to watch him die. I won the day. He lost".
Lucas smiled. "It's a great day," he says. He sighed. "And now you must address the troops, General. As is your duty, your honour and your privilege".
"Very true," Chaucer said, putting his hat on. "They fought hard today, and they lost some of their colleagues. They must be reminded of the great victory that they enabled. They must be reminded of the role they played in history, every last one of them".
Chaucer and Lucas made their way out to the front of the tent, where the surviving soldiers had gathered. They all looked so tired, their combat uniforms damaged.
"We have won," said General Chaucer, grinning as Captain Lucas stood a little way behind him. "The stain of the werewolf menace has been wiped from this land forever. We have achieved what previous generations were unable to do". He looked at the soldiers. It was obvious, from their exhausted expressions and their cuts and bruises, that they had been through one hell of a war. But that war was over now, and Chaucer was determined to rouse his troops one final time. "You are all heroes. Each and every one of you. I know that Captain Lucas here agrees with me -"
"Very much so," said Lucas.
"And I will see to it," Chaucer said, "that each and every one of you gets the reward that you deserve". He took a deep breath. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, it was almost impossible to believe that it had finally arrived. "Victory," he said. "That is what we have achieved today. Total victory. The werewolves have lost. The humans have won. God bless us". He felt his spirit soaring. He had led his men to battle, and they had been victorious against the enemy beasts. "To victory!" he shouted, raising a fist to the sky. "To a world without werewolves!"
24
hours
earlier
1.
"We're here," says Duncan, stopping suddenly.
I look around. We've been walking for so long, I kind of forgot that we'd ever actually get to where we're going. We're in a small forest clearing, and there's nothing to indicate that we've passed over any kind of threshold. No gate, no sign, nothing to say that we've finally reached the Scottish estate. Just another part of the forest, exactly like the previous part of the forest, and the part before that, and the part before that. But I can see from Duncan's face that something around us has changed.
"Do you hear them?" he asks, smiling at me. He seems happy, almost relaxed. He's back among his own people, on the land that he knows. In London he had an edge of tenseness about his voice, but now he seems more sure of himself.
I shake my head. I don't hear a thing, but then my hearing isn't as good as Duncan's. I'm still not fully able to use my werewolf abilities yet; my human thoughts and emotions keep getting in the way. I guess that's something that 'll change at some point.
"Scouts," Duncan says. "Werewolves patrolling the border. Moving quietly but fast. They're expecting trouble. They're probably expecting me, too, which is kind of the same thing. But they're not going to be expecting you". He smiles at me. "They won't know who you are, so they'll be cautious. But me, they'll be expecting me". He stands in silence for a moment, listening. "They know we're here. There'll be a welcome party out to meet us at some point". He turns to Darla, who is slowly catching up with us. "Welcome home," he says.
"Darling, I've never been here before in my life," she says, not sounding particularly impressed.
"It's still home," Duncan says. "For all werewolves".
Darla shakes her head. "It's a place the humans put us. They drew a circle on a map and told us we have to live here, and nowhere else, or they'll kill us. And that circle keeps shrinking. Face it, this place is just a place where they're keeping us while they decide how best to slaughter us".
"You have no idea how wrong you are," Duncan says. "This has been werewolf territory for centuries. For longer than I've been alive, and longer than you've been alive too. It's ancestral territory, part of our tradition. This is where our species has its roots. This is in our identity, it's our... our Jerusalem. Our Washington. Our Mecca. That's why it's so important that we defend it".
Darla still doesn't seem particularly keen. Since we left Edinburgh, she's not seemed herself. I miss the old Darla, the Darla who seemed to be able to have fun no matter what was happening. There was always a hint of darkness in her eyes, and in the way that she laughed, but she seemed able to cover it with a smile and a kind of lust for life. So much has happened recently, though, and things have changed. She seems sad all the time, as if she can't stop remembering all the bad things that have happened. I understand why she's like this, but I still wish I could find a way to get her fighting spirit back out into the open. Right now, it's as if she's happy to just sit down and wait to die. There was a time when I'd have bet on Darla in any fight, in any conflict, but now I'm not so sure. Now I feel as if something has broken inside her, and I'm not sure if the old Darla is ever going to re-surface.
"What do we do now?" I ask. "Where do we go?"
"There'll be a gathering," Duncan says. "All the werewolves will meet to discuss a plan. The humans will be on top of us soon, and we have to be prepared for anything".
"So do you have a plan?" I ask.
He opens his mouth, then pauses for a moment. "Yes," he says finally, looking a little uncertain. "Of course I do".
I wait for him to continue. "And what's your plan?" I ask eventually.
"My plan..." he says slowly, clearly thinking on the spot, "is to come up with a brilliant plan".
Darla laughs. "That's your plan?"
"It's a good plan!" Duncan says, clearly offended. "What's your plan? Not to come up with a brilliant plan?"
Darla just shakes her head.
"I always come up with a plan," Duncan says, turning to me. "Always. I know sometimes it doesn't come to me until he last moment, but I always come up with a plan. When did I ever let you down?"
It occurs to me to mention that time when I had to rescue him from the Underworld, but I decide to let it go. "Shouldn't we go and find the other werewolves?" I ask. After all, they might actually have a plan right now.
The three of us start walking through the forest. "I'll come up with a plan, you know," Duncan says. I cast him a dubious glance. "I will!" he insists. "No matter how bad the situation looks, no matter how doomed we appear to be, there's always a way out. Always. We just have to be smart enough to spot it in time".
"And when we're all dead?" Darla asks. "When we've all been killed and minced up and vaporised? Will you still be waiting to come up with a plan? Face it, we shouldn't be here. We should have turned around and run. We should have run to the other side of the world and hidden. At least we'd have a chance of surviving".
"The Wolf King will know what to do," Duncan says.
"Wolf King?" I ask.
&nb
sp; "He knows how to handle the humans," Duncan insists.
"Clearly," says Darla. "He's done such a good job so far, hasn't he?"
We stop as there's suddenly a loud bang in the distance, following by a couple more. This is followed by a whooshing sound, and a jet fighter roars over our heads.
"It's started," Duncan says, a look of worry etched across his face.
"No kidding," Darla says. "How's that plan of yours coming along?"
Duncan hurries ahead. "I know where they'll be," he says as we follow. "We have to get to the Wolf King and find out the situation, then we can come up with a plan".
"Sure," says Darla. "Let's hope so anyway. I sure don't want to be dead by the weekend".
Duncan stops again.
"They're here," he says, looking concerned.
"Who?" I ask.
"The welcome party," he says. The three of us stand completely still. I can't hear a thing anywhere near us, but Duncan clearly thinks that there's someone nearby. "It's okay," he continues. "They just need to get a sense of us, to make sure we're not an enemy. Then they'll -"
"Duncan," says a voice.
We turn to find a man standing behind us. He's older than us, looking like he's in his forties, and he has a worried look on his face. His clothes are torn.
"Robin!" Duncan says, clearly pleased to see a familiar face. They greet each other with a hug. "I should have known it'd be you they'd send to meet me. Last time I saw you, you were -"
"Attacking a small car, wasn't I?" Robin says.
"That's right!" Duncan says. "You were attacking a small car, and I was... What was I doing?"
"You were running naked past the Queen's window," Robin says. "And the car I was attacking was chasing you".
Duncan puts his hand up for a high-five, which Robin reluctantly gives him.
"I see your time in London didn't change you very much," Robin says.
"I got a haircut!" Duncan replies. "Well, almost".
Robin seems unconvinced by Duncan's excitement. "It's good that you came back," he says. "It's going worse than we ever could have feared. The -"
"I saw a jet fighter," Duncan says. "Unless you've managed to get hold of some pretty mean technology -"
"The attack has started," Robin says. "Missiles and bombs several times a day, and at night. The water supply has been poisoned, so has most of the food. There are large numbers of troops massing to the south-west and we think they're going to move in tonight. And it gets worse. This morning, the -"
"How many are left?" Duncan asks. "How many do we have left?"
"Not enough," Robin says. "They've killed a lot of us over the past 24 hours. There are maybe sixty werewolves left, but some of those are children and old wolves, incapable of fighting. The humans have new technology. Bullets coated with poison. Not enough to kill us, but enough to subdue us while they load our bodies into their machines. Each wolf is then sliced up and vaporised. Permanent death".
"But we can recover, can't we?" I ask. "Even if we're killed, we can heal ourselves?"
Robin shakes his head. "We can only heal our bodies if our bodies still exist. The humans vaporise the bodies. There's nothing left".s
"Sounds like fun," Darla says, interrupting.
"Duncan," says Robin, a note of urgency in his voice. "We have to talk about the -"
"Hang on," Duncan says, sighing. "Where are my manners? Robin, this is Darla".
Darla smiles reluctantly at Robin. "I'm -"
"Don't worry about that now," says Duncan, grabbing Robin and pulling him over to me. "This -" he says, smiling. "This is Jess. She's one of us now, too. She's my..." He pauses. "Well, she's Jess".
Robin looks at me with suspicion. "One of us... now?" he asks.
"Yes," says Duncan. "She was human, but I changed her. She's a werewolf now".
"How long ago?" Robin asks, clearly not convinced.
"A few weeks," Duncan says. "But I can assure you, she's -"
"A potential spy," says Robin.
"I'm not a spy," I say.
"Forgive me for not taking your word on that subject," Robin says. "Duncan, do you think it's wise to risk having her here?"
"We can trust her," Duncan says. "She saved my life. She came down to the Underworld to find me. She killed Thomas Lumic".
"She killed Lumic?" Robin says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly can't quite believe it.
"Well..." I say. "Not entirely. It was Darla who really... did the legwork and got the giant worm to eat him".
Robin eyes me suspiciously for a few more seconds. "No spy would come up with such a ludicrous claim," he says. "If Duncan trusts you, that's good enough for me. For now, anyway". He steps forward and shakes my hand. "Welcome," he says, a hint of suspicion and doubt lingering in his voice. "It's brave of you to follow your master up here".
"Master?" I ask.
"Ignore that," Duncan says.
"No-one's my master," I say.
"Of course not," Duncan says.
"It's tradi- "Robin starts to say, but Duncan interrupts him by coughing loudly for several seconds.
"Ignore Robin," Duncan says to me. "He... he's very old-fashioned. He... knoweth not of whateth he speaketh".
I stare at him, slightly annoyed by this 'master' business. "I knoweth not of whateth you speaketh".
"Good," Duncan says.
"Good," I reply
"I need a drink," Darla says to Robin. "A big, strong drink. Come on, this is Scotland. You must be swimming in whisky".
"There's no time to waste," Robin says. "If there's any chance for us to survive, we have to -"
"We have to come up with a plan," says Duncan. "A brilliant plan. So brilliant, that it will make everyone's jaws drop to the floor. Don't worry. We can do it. But we have to speak to the Wolf King, so come on, let's go and find him".
A pained expression crosses Robin's face. "You don't understand, Duncan. That's what I've been trying to tell you". He takes a deep breath. "There was a battle. A huge battle, many died on both sides. And... the Wolf King was killed this morning".
2.
General Chaucer surveyed the scene. Before him lay the Scottish estate, 20,000 acres of forest and hillside, a beautiful natural wilderness that also happened to be home to the last werewolves. It was a beautiful sight in the early afternoon sunshine, an oasis of nature in a world of chaos. Too bad, Chaucer thought to himself, that he was going to have to blow it up and kill every living thing in the area. Sure, it looked fairly peaceful right now, but this peace was just the calm before the storm. In his hand, Chaucer held a small radio. With this radio, he could call in airstrikes on any part of the estate; carpet bombing to smoke out the last remaining werewolves. He could deploy land-mines, and missiles, and men with guns and vaporisers. He had a whole arsenal of weapons. He was in the enviable position of knowing for certain that he was about to win a battle, and he had the luxury of deciding when to make his move. And he was going to call in the attacks soon, as a precursor to sending in his ground troops. He just needed to wait a little longer. He just needed to be sure that everything was ready.
"Sir!" said Corporal Withers, approaching from behind.
"Yes?" Chaucer asked, not bothering to turn around to face the visitor. He'd never really had much respect for Withers.
"Sir, we've received word that GCHQ is sending a representative up to help with the final stage". Withers waited a moment. "Captain Lucas is on his way, Sir".
"Lucas?" Chaucer said, turning to Withers. "Lucas?" His voice couldn't hide his disgust, and his contempt. "They're sending Lucas up to help with... with what? What do they think Lucas can do that I can't?"
Withers considered what to say. "I think they just want an observer here, Sir," he said eventually. "And Captain Lucas has a very good reputation for -"
"I know, I know," says Chaucer, losing patience. "I've heard of him. He's been flavour of the month down in London for most of the year. I just don't see why they feel the need to send someone up t
o spy on me. I'm more than capable of finishing this job. I tracked down the Wolf King and had him killed, didn't I?"
"Yes, Sir," said Withers.
"And I got the wolves surrounded, didn't I?"
"Yes, Sir," said Withers.
"So the hard work is done," Chaucer said. His anger boiled up and threatened for a moment to spill over, but suddenly he saw another side of things. "All that's left is for this Captain Lucas to come up and watch my glory unfold". He smiled. "Fine. Let him come. He'll have precious little to do other than to watch the final act of this interminable war". Chaucer considered the idea. Although he hated the thought of someone being sent up from London to 'help' with the mission, he could see the advantages of having someone available to witness his final victory. Lucas would have no option to report back to London that Chaucer's campaign had been a total success.
"There's something else, Sir," Withers said. "Heat scans of the forest detected three new individuals moving in from the south".
A small smile curled its way across Chaucer's lips. "Three figures?" he repeated. "It must be them".
"We don't have visual confirmation yet," Withers cautioned.
"I don't need visual confirmation," Chaucer said firmly. He turned to Withers. "I can tell it's them. I can feel it in the air. Can't you feel it, Withers? Don't you have that extra sense that tells you when your enemy is nearby?"
Withers sniffed and thought about it for a moment. "Not really sure, Sir".
Chaucer shook his head, despairing of Withers. "Have you ever heard of Duncan?" he asked.
Withers took a deep breath. "Only when you've talked about him, Sir". And that was true: Chaucer talked about Duncan a lot. Sometimes, he seemed to be obsessed with him. "I know you want to get him, Sir".
