“I recognize you two, ” he said, “packmates of King Albrecht. The famous Mari Cabrah and Evan Heals-the-Past. I’m right glad to meet you. They call me the Black Bellower, but my friends can call me Tom. ”
Evan smiled and offered his hand, which the man took and shook heartily. "I hope that means we can call you Tom. ” “It certainly does, ” Tom said, with a broad grin that Evan couldn't help liking. Tom raised his hand to his brow in an exaggerated salute. “Reporting for duty with the Boar Spear Pack, the Fianna's finest in all of this land. " “Pleased to have you with us, ” Evan said.
“I noticed your formation, ” Mari said, “and I’ve heard that you guys are all expert scouts. ”
“You've heard right, ” Tom said, his right eyebrow rising, waiting for the question she was sure to ask.
“Can we have the Boar Spear form around the entire party? To be the vanguard, the sides and the rear? Or is that spreading you too thin? ”
“Not thin at all! We’re used to spreading out over distances, and we got all manner of calls and howls to alert one another. So, yeah, you’ve got a good eye for these sorts of things, Ms. Cabrah. We’ll be glad to be your escort. ”
“Well then, ” Evan said, turning to scan the line. “I guess there’s no reason to wait any longer. Let’s move out. ”
Tom nodded and motioned to his packmates, pointing to where each should go. They all headed for their assigned posts, spread out equidistant around the line, which marched two by two. The party was now twenty-eight strong in all, seven packs (including Evan and Mari’s), a much better number than Evan had begun to fear they would leave with, but with a worrisome potential for disunity. So many packs representing so many tribes, most of them strangers to one another. Garou were not renowned for their ability to work well with other tribes; this task would be a real challenge.
The party filed up the trail to the moon bridge point, where the sept’s Gatekeeper opened a bridge to the Winter Wolf sept, speaking across vast distances through spirit intermediaries. With no hesitation and no farewells to the Finger Lakes sept, the war party marched onto the bridge and into the North.
• • •
Evan stepped from the moon bridge onto ice and snow. The village had clearly suffered a snowstorm since he had last been there. Three Garou waited nearby, watching as the war party stepped from the bridge: Aurak Moondancer, Painted Claw and a young man dressed in a thick robe with the sign of the half-moon upon it. They said nothing to the arriving Garou but simply watched them with expressionless faces.
Mari marched the party forward until they had all cleared the bridge and then called a halt. She looked over at the Wendigo greeting party and their blank faces, and then looked at Evan, frowning.
Evan walked over and bowed to Aurak. John North Wind's Son broke away from the end of the line and joined him, also bowing to Aurak, whose eyes betrayed a slight smile upon seeing him.
Aurak stepped forward and looked over the newly arrived Garou. "I thank you for coming, ” he said. “We have prepared a lodge for you. Food and water waits for you there. Gleaming Tree will lead you. ”
Gleaming Tree, the young half-moon, turned and walked down a trail, not waiting to see if he were followed. Evan nodded at Mari, who barked a wolfish growl at the war party. They followed her down the trail, keeping their formation, leaving Evan and John behind with the two Winter Wolf Wendigo.
Once the group was out of sight and hearing, Painted Claw growled a long, rumbling grunt of annoyance. Aurak held up his hand and Painted Claw fell silent, but he glowered at Evan and John.
“There is a war council waiting for us, ” Aurak said. “Please join us. " He walked down the trail, followed by Painted Claw, who looked back to make sure that Evan and John followed. They looked at one another, shrugged, and fell in behind the two older Garou.
At a fork in the trail, Aurak led them to the left. The tracks in the snow revealed that the war party had been led to the right; Evan could smell smoke from a distant fire in that direction. Their own trail led them to a wooden cabin covered in snow, its windows blocked by tautly stretched animal hides. Aurak bent to enter the low doorway. Painted Claw gestured for Evan and John to enter before him, which they did, also bending past the low entryway.
A central fire lit the dark room, along with what little daylight came through the translucent hides stretched over the windows. Wendigo sat in a circle around the room. Aurak crossed the hall to take a place reserved for him. Evan and John recognized the places meant for them, along an empty bench to the right of the entrance. As he sat down, Evan could see the nearest Garou in the gloom: Quiet Storm nodded and smiled at him. He smiled back.
Painted Claw dropped a flap of hide over the door, blocking the chill outside breeze, and took his own seat in the middle of the room on the far side from Evan and John.
Aurak shook a turtle-shell rattle three times and all the Garou prayed in silence. Then the old man spoke. “We have spent the days preparing for a long hunt. We have gathered food and water and prayed to Gaia and the ancestors for guidance. Now that you have returned with the other tribes, we can depart. ”
Painted Claw let out a gruff, angry bark. Aurak sat back, saying, “We may speak freely here. We are among friends. ” “Friends here, yes, ” Painted Claw said, rising to stand and survey the Garou gathered there. “But not in the guest lodge. They are strangers. Cubs, even! A mangy band of pitiful Garou. Is this the best Heals-the-Past can do? ”
There were murmurs around the room. The rest of the lodge members were clearly disturbed by Painted Claw’s news.
Evan spoke without standing, his voice calm. “There are terrible troubles throughout New York, events you wouldn’t believe. Black Spiral Dancers, fomori, banes—evil creatures loosed from all directions. Every sept is under attack. This is unlike any time we have ever known. The other tribes have done their best to aid us and given us what packs they can. ” “Then where are their warriors? Their shamans? I saw a group of curs escorted by a handful of Garou who might— might—be called warriors. But I will wait until they prove themselves before judging them such. Where are the Uktena? It is an outrage! ”
Evan stood up. "The Uktena struggle to maintain the bindings on three monsters. They cannot come, but they released the best Fianna pack in the northeast to aid us, at the risk of their own peril. We have the famed Boar’s Spear Pack as scouts. "
A murmur traveled throughout the room. Even here, m the far Canadian north, some had heard of the Boar’s Spear.
Quiet Storm stood up and looked straight at Painted Claw. “Clearly, Heals-the-Past has fulfilled the prophecy. He has brought many of the tribes to fight with us, more than we could gather with our own words. That is enough. ”
“Enough for what. ’” Painted Claw said. “Enough to have a representative of each tribe die at the hands of the Talon? Good! Our blood spills together! Our sacrifice is even more in vain! We should have been hunting this thing by now, taking it down ourselves. Instead, we have waited. For what? Children! ’’
“You speak as an Ahroun warrior, as is well, ” Quiet Storm said. "I speak as a Ragabash advocate, and I say they are enough. What do the other Ahroun say? What do you say, Flint Knife? ” All eyes turned to watch Flint Knife, who did not reply immediately. He let out a few consternated breaths and finally spoke: “We shall see. There is nothing to be done for it now. We must leave. Soon. "
Most of the Garou in the dimly lit lodge nodded. Painted Claw sat down again. Evan also sat, followed by Quiet Storm. John North Wind’s Son stood up.
“I am also a full moon, ” he said, “ and I say that you are all arrogant. ” Many of the Wendigo looked at him with surprise and a few growls of anger. “You have lived a long time in a place untouched by troubles. I have not. I have fought in New York and in Europe, side by side with the other tribes. I know how they fight and I know their renown is earned just as ours is, with blood, honor and wisdom. ”
Painted Claw rose to rebut him but
Aurak stood first. Painted Claw sat back down, in deference to the elder. “Many times I have been called to aid the other tribes. Rarely have I asked them to aid us. Perhaps they could have sent more, perhaps not. I do not know. I believe Evan speaks true; his voice is one to heed. As I have seen, the other tribes did answer. They are here to fight beside us. We must put aside our anger at what has not come to pass and be thankful for what has come. Tonight, we will hunt. We abandon our village and our families, but there is no other way. We must find the Talon and end its days. ” He sat back down and the room fell silent. After a while, he spoke again: “Let us go and greet our new allies and eat with them, so that we are strong for the hunt. ” He stood up and headed for the door.
Everyone nodded and rose to follow. As Aurak passed Evan and John, he motioned them to walk with him. The rest of the lodge fell in behind them. As they walked, Aurak spoke again. “I am sorry to tell you, but Cries-at-Sundown, the banetender, has died. Our medicine could not help him; he lost too much from his wound, more than anyone could heal. The Talon’s poison ate at his spirit. It is good he died before it could finish its meal. He is free now. ”
Evan nodded, sad at the news. It was yet another heartrending development in a series of bad happenings.
• • •
At twilight, the war party left the village, each member loping through the snow in wolf form to speed travel. The Wendigo, following the whispers of spirits and their own scouting parties, had divined a suspected location for the Talon, three days to the north. They would need speed to catch it before it veered again.
Fifteen Wendigo joined the party, jointly led by Aurak Moondancer, the most experienced shaman among them, and Painted Claw, the highest ranked warrior. Following the Wendigo tradition, Aurak would lead until they found their prey, after which Painted Claw would become the War Chieftain. Hint Knife and Quiet Storm were among them. Only three Wendigo were left behind to watch over their Kinfolk, all of them too old or too disabled to make the long run across the tundra.
They split the band into two divisions, one to range across the material world and another smaller group to scout the spirit world. Each division had a balanced representation of moon auspices and certain Garou in both groups were designated as heralds, those who would quickly fetch the other group if the need arose.
Shamans called upon hunting spirits to aid them, beings expert at tracking or who could provide spiritual powers. They also brought an array of fetishes to help find their prey and flush it out of hiding if need be.
Most of the non-Wendigo Garou were soon in awe of the Wendigo’s hunting prowess, surprised at how quickly and efficiently they tracked the Talon across a vast range of featureless tundra. Its direct tracks had not yet been encountered, but rumor of its passing came to them by way of spirits or was brought on mystical winds.
Despite this newfound respect for the Wendigo, however, the tribes chose to remain somewhat segregated, each pack keeping mainly to itself, despite Evan and the Silver River Pack’s attempts to draw them out of their uncomfortable shells and mix with the others. The interactions between the volunteer packs and the quiet Wendigo were few and far between.
On two different occasions, Evan had to break up fights. One was between the Vanguard Pack of Get of Fenris and two Wendigo tale-keepers, arguing over whose tribe was tougher. The tension was thick and everyone could feel the hairs rising on their napes as the arguing Garou’s rage rose to the surface. Evan managed to soothe them both, getting them each to concede a virtue of the other (the Wendigo’s enduring stoicism and the Get’s unquestioning fury).
The other fight was worse, this one between Loper of the Dawn Rover Pack of Bone Gnawers and Feedback, the Glass Walker. Claw strikes were exchanged, and Mari had to leap in and knock the fighting cubs’ ears before they would stop and listen to Evan's command to cut it out. It was clear that if Mari had failed to intervene, Painted Claw would have, with a much worse outcome for the cubs.
It began to seem to Evan that nobody wanted to join together, that everyone had come seeking personal glory and didn’t care for any sense of group unity or purpose. When confronted with the hard work of compromise and task sharing, even the Fianna proved recalcitrant. They were affable enough most of the time, but when asked to undertake some duty—such as ensuring the cubs didn’t fall behind, or ranging far out to one side or the other—they seemed to take it personally and begrudgingly.
More surprising still was the increasingly poor attitude of the Silver River Pack. Evan had assumed that they, of all the Garou here, were dependable and ready to sacrifice for the greater good. They’d earned renown for it before. But now, they seemed on edge, gruff and annoyed whenever they had to work too closely with any of the other packs, especially the Wendigo. Even John didn’t seem to want to have much to do with his own tribe. True, they weren’t his septmates, but they were fellow Wendigo. His cold aloofness rivaled that of Flint Knife.
On the evening of the second night, as they called a halt to their roaming and began to build a camp, Evan approached Aurak, who sat in wolf form by the edge of a snow bank, panting. He was older than all of them, and had a tougher time keeping up with the rigorous run. When he saw Evan approach in human form, he also assumed that shape, smiling at the young Wendigo.
“Elder, " Evan said. “I’m worried about the war party. I’ve seen dissent in the ranks before, but the sheer distance between tribe members here is... well, it’s getting insurmountable. "
“And grows worse the farther north we go, ” Aurak said, unsurprised at Evan’s concern.
“Yes. Over time, we’re not coming together so much as coining farther apart. ”
“It is not the time, but the distance. We are getting closer to the Talon. "
Evan’s eyes widened. “Is this something the Talon's doing to us? ”
Aurak shrugged. “I do not know. Something is causing it. It is not normal. I know my sept well and they do not act in accord with our ways. ”
Evan nodded. “Neither does the Silver River Pack. I figured the other Garou were always like this, but maybe not. Maybe we’re all succumbing to something, some power. ” A terrible growling broke out nearby as two wolves tore into each other in a fierce fight for dominance. Evan leaped up, looking for Mari or Painted Claw, but saw that they both watched the fight with indifference.
“Stop it! ” Evan yelled, shifting to battle form and rushing toward the two embattled Garou.
Mari seemed surprised at this and then ran over herself, likewise shifting to her wolfman form. She and Evan each grabbed onto a different wolf and tugged them away. As soon as the wolves lost contact with one another, the fight went out of them. One of them was a Wendigo, a wolf-born Garou; he shook the snow off his fur and padded away. The other shifted into human form; it was Ironpaw, one of the Get of Fenris. He looked ashamed and tired.
"I think we should keep the packs apart for now, ” Evan said to Mari, as she released Ironpaw from her grip.
“That’s probably a good idea, ” Mari said, cuffing Ironpaw on the ear as he walked away. He bent his head and clutched his ear in pain but did not cry out. As they watched him walk away, he suddenly fell over, blood spreading out over the snow beneath his head. Moments later, a loud, echoing crack carried across the tundra.
“We’re under attack! ” Mari yelled, staring at the bullet hole in Ironpaw’s head. The shot had killed him instantly. If he had been in any other form than his natural, human form, he might have had a chance, but it was too late for him now.
Howls erupted throughout the nascent camp as Garou shifted into battle form and scattered across the tundra, seeking the source of the shot.
“No! " Evan cried. “Don’t spread out! We’ve got to keep organized! ”
A roaring exploded in the air behind him and he spun around to see a snowmobile barreling straight at him across the snow. Two men in paramilitary fatigues straddled the bucking and thudding vehicle. A flash of light from one of their hands heralded a bu
rning sensation in Evan’s shoulder. He screamed in pain as the silver bullet exited from his back.
He fell to the ground, dazed, as the snowmobile shot straight at him.
Evan writhed in pain as he rolled to the side, desperate to move from the snowmobile’s path. The oncoming vehicle veered toward him. He felt faint, about to pass out. Knowing no other option, he dug his finger into the wound and twisted. The searing pain wracked his body. He lost all sense of anything but pain. Pain and anger. Rage erupted from deep in his belly.
• • •
The snowmobile driver laughed as his sleek machine barreled at the fallen Garou. He imagined the Garou’s guts splattering across his windshield. Instead, the snowmobile wrenched to a sudden halt and he went flying, crashing into a snow bank.
He crawled from the thick bank and shook his head, dizzy. He saw his snowmobile, upended in the snow, its front fender completely crumpled. He stood up, trying to get his hearings, when he felt a sudden warmth in his belly, which then spread down the front of his legs. He looked down—a huge, furred and clawed hand jutted from his torso, covered in his own steaming blood and intestines.
He moaned in fear and sudden pain as the claw withdrew, tugged back through him and out the entry wound in his back. He collapsed onto the ground, dead before his head hit the snow.
The snowmobile’s passenger, trying to stand on a broken leg, screamed in fear as he saw his partner fall. A hulking, gray-furred Garou stood behind him, its hand glistening wet with blood. Its feral eyes turned to meet his own. He brought his pistol up and fired madly. The thing was insanely fast. Before he could re-aim, it appeared at his side, slicing downward. His forearm cleanly detached from his elbow and thumped into the snow. He stared in shock at the stump and then saw the massive jaws closing on his head. A sickening crunch followed and he slumped lifeless to the ground.
World of Darkness - [Time of Judgment 02] - The Last Battle Page 15
