She lunged forward and into the line of Garou. Her jaws snapped down on a Fenrir’s neck. She clamped down hard and shook her head, thrashing the trapped Garou to her right and left, knocking aside his compatriots. She released him and drove her claws into his belly, yanking out a handful of guts. The Fenrir collapsed, wheezing as air escaped from the ragged holes in this throat.
Zhyzhak stepped over him and slashed at more Garou, looking past them, searching for signs of Albrecht.
The Garou pressed forward, a small charge instigated by something behind them. Their ranks opened enough to admit a white-furred Garou. King Albrecht immediately fell upon Zhyzhak, knocking her over.
She snarled and scraped her claws against his metallic silver fur, screaming in pain at the burning contact. She spat a foaming green fire at him, pissed that he’d use the same trick as last time they clashed. She hooked her whip around his neck and squeezed.
Albrecht’s claws tore off chunks of the slimy ichor that protected Zhyzhak’s flesh. Before he could penetrate her skin, his throat closed up, squeezed by her whip. He leaped back with a burst of strength, almost pulling the whip from Zhyzhak’s hands, and slashed down with his klaive. The blade, supernaturally sharpened by an earth spirit Aurak had bound into it, sliced cleanly through the whip, tearing it in two. Albrecht fell back as the tension suddenly released. He yanked the whip from his throat and threw it on the ground.
Zhyzhak howled in rage, clutching the other end of the broken whip, staring at the remains of her beloved fetish. Her eyes squinted and her jaw opened wide, a deafening growl exploding from her throat.
She launched herself up and forward, barreling into Albrecht. She drove the king against the canyon wall, knocking the breath out of him. Her claws drilled into his chest, tearing away the silver armor as if it were paper, drawing gouts of blood.
Suddenly she stumbled, weak in the knees, her blows glancing off the king. She limped backwards, confused, and looked down at her stomach. Albrecht’s klaive jutted from her guts, exiting out her backside. She felt a sudden wave of fear and clutched at the klaive's handle, tugging it with her fading strength. It slid out, nicking her spine. She spasmed as the nerves ignited in pain, dropping the klaive to the ground with a clatter.
Albrecht slowly rose, obviously in pain, his veins inflamed with Zhyzhak’s poison. He grunted and swayed unsteadily. Zhyzhak stumbled backward, clutching her gut. Albrecht’s klaive lay on the ground. Almost instinctively, ignoring the screaming in his veins, he snatched the weapon up.
A horde of Garou warriors leaped between him and Zhyzhak. Creatures fell upon them, inserting themselves between the Garou and their queen. Hands lifted Albrecht up and carried him away, back down the passage. A mob of creatures tugged Zhyzhak back, dragging her down the path.
Mephi Faster-Than-Death ran over to Evan and Aurak. “The king needs healing! ”
Aurak shifted to wolf form and ran after Mephi. Evan snarled and chased after them. If his job was to protect Aurak, he could do that by Albrecht’s side.
The elder pushed the warriors away and bent over the king. Albrecht shivered in a fever, fighting a toxin in his bloodstream. Aurak shifted into human form and drew a handful of leaves from his pouch, placing them on Albrecht’s tom and bloody chest. He spoke a few words and the leaves shriveled, drying instantly.
Albrecht’s eyes opened. Aurak and Evan leaned over him, faces taught with concern. His fever was gone and the pain in his limbs dissipated.
Aurak nodded, relieved. “The Crawling Poison was strong, but the spirits of Pangaia are stronger. ”
Albrecht sat up, looking at the pass. Warriors bunched around the entry, still fighting the incursion. The enemy had not broken through. Garou in dire wolf form ran back and forth, dragging wounded warriors away from the front lines, back to the healers in the valley.
“Where’s Zhyzhak? ” Albrecht said, standing up.
“She was pulled into the forest, ” Mephi said. “Presumably for healing. ”
“Have they sprung any of the traps? "
“Most of them, ” Mephi said. “As far as we can tell, falling trees took out a few of the enemy. But that didn't slow them down much. ”
Albrecht nodded, examining his klaive. Blood caked the fine silver-steel alloy. “At least I got a piece of her. ”
• • •
Zhyzhak grunted as the maggots crawled through her guts, secreting a mushy substance that scarred over her tom flesh. She rubbed the bumpy scar on her stomach where the klaive had entered. It itched annoyingly.
She spat onto the ground and kicked the solicitous healers away. She looked around and gestured to four packs of Black Spiral Dancers. “You! Who has patagia? ”
Nine of them nodded, grunting and hooting, opening their arms to reveal flaps of skin connecting their underarms to their torsos.
“Follow me! ” Zhyzhak led them to a large stand of trees near the cliff face. The trees towered upwards, almost reaching the cliff’s peak. She reached up and grasped a limb, pulling her body up. “Climb! ”
The Dancers spread out among the trees and began to climb them, cackling and barking as they moved higher and higher.
A loud cracking sound reverberated through the air. One of the tree trunks swayed, then snapped and tumbled to the ground. The Dancer climbing it leaped away, spreading his skin flaps. They caught the wind and he glided down in circles, cursing and gnashing his teeth as the others laughed at him.
“Climb! ” Zhyzhak yelled and the laughing stopped. The Dancers hurried their pace, rushing to the tree tops.
Once everyone was positioned, Zhyzhak pointed across the empty space to the cliff top, where archers aimed arrows at them. She snarled and launched herself into the air, her own patagia skin catching the wind and carrying her upwards. The other Dancers lurched into the sky with her, veering in different directions to catch the wind gusts.
Arrows rained down on them. Two Dancers gurgled loudly and fell, arrows buried deep in their chests. Three more Dancers howled as arrows pierced their limbs, but they kept climbing, catching new winds.
Two arrows bounced off Zhyzhak’s hide. She huffed and huffed, drawing deep breaths, and belched a gout of green flame at the row of archers. They leaped back, screaming in pain, dropping their bows as they frantically tried to extinguish their burning fur.
Zhyzhak landed on the ledge and waded into them, knocking three of them over the side with one blow. The Dancers landed at other places on the ledge and slashed into the defenders, who dropped their bows to deal with the assault claw-to-claw.
Zhyzhak didn’t bother with them. She screeched in what sounded like a bat language and leaped forward, shoving aside more defenders, until she reached the far ledge. She looked down into the valley and saw her prey.
Arms spread wide, she vaulted over the edge, falling fast toward the valley floor, followed by four other Black Spiral Dancers.
She rocketed at King Albrecht’s head. The king turned to see her coming and tried to dodge out of the way, but she changed her flight path to intercept him. A sudden wind cut under her, picking her up and throwing her back, out of control. The icy air pounded into her, freezing her lungs, and bashed her against the rock wall.
She slid to the ground, hitting hard, stunned. She saw a young Wendigo standing next to Albrecht, directing the wind that tore at her fur. The king’s accursed packmate.
Six howling Gaian warriors landed on her, slashing at her wrists and legs, pinning her down. She closed her eyes and spat a curse in a language harmful to human ears. Her skin burst, revealing new, warty gray hide. Her body warped and spasmed as she grew to huge proportions, three times her normal size.
The combined strength and weight of the warriors were no match for her Wyrmish power. She flung them away with ease, cackling through a disfigured throat. Her body vibrated, muscles growing and shrinking, contracting and expanding. Her claws grew into miniature scythes, dripping with venom. She roared in laughter, thinking of the irony. She had be
en taught this power by Duchess Aliara when she had attained the fifth rank. Now, she ruled over that Maeljin Lord.
She paced forward, glaring at the warriors. Their courage faltered and they hesitated to engage her.
King Albrecht strode forward, heading straight for her, swinging his accursed klaive. She wouldn’t be so stupid as to let him land a blow this time.
A weight landed on her shoulders and something tore at her ears. Before she could react, her left ear was ripped from her body while a claw dug into her gums, wrenching her head back with incredible strength. She lunged backwards into the wall with massive force. The attacker on her back grunted, letting go.
She spun around and sliced at the attacking Garou. He howled in agony as her claw flayed his bicep from his left arm. She hesitated, surprised. Her assailant was a mere cub. How had he delivered such pain?
The cub stared at her, his eyes pits of rage. He leaped up and clamped his jaws around her throat with such speed she could only stumble backwards in shock. She snatched at him with her claws but couldn’t tug him from his grip. She felt his teeth penetrate her muscles and saw her own blood spray across the Garou’s (ur.
She poked her thumb into the boy’s eye, her sharp claw popping the gelatinous flesh like a bubble. His jaws opened, screaming, as his hands went up to protect his eye. She swatted him away, relishing the crunch of his bones as he tumbled into the wall.
She spun around to look for Albrecht and saw his other packmate, the Black Fury sow, hands open wide, pointing at her. Ten wasps shot from her hands, diving through the air in curving arcs. They drove straight into Zhyzhak’s eyes. She howled and reeled, plucking the flying claws from her face. Her eyes were mangled orbs hanging from their sockets. She was completely blind.
She smelled Albrecht’s scent and snarled. She bunched her legs up under her and leaped into the air, spreading her wings. She vaulted away from him, flying erratically across the valley. She thudded into another wall and sniffed, smelling for her enemies. Their scent was distant. She had crossed the whole valley in one leap.
She dropped to the ground and moaned, clutching her skull.
• • •
Albrecht cursed as Zhyzhak leaped away from his klaive strike. She shot across the valley and slammed into the far wall. He looked down at Martin, Loba’s adopted cub. The boy thrashed in pain, clutching his lost eye. Albrecht had never seen a Garou move so fast—and he’d seen the best of the best. The boy clearly had abilities well beyond what even elders could do.
He bent down, offering the boy his arm. “It’s all right, kid. Losing an eye is nothing. Come on, get up! ”
Martin opened his good eye and stared at Albrecht, frowning. He relaxed, as if the pain had gone. His jaw opened into a crooked grin and he began to laugh.
Albrecht stared in shock at the cub as a cracked, hoarse female voice rumbled from his throat. With the same speed he had shown earlier, he snatched at Albrecht’s hand, pulling him close. Before Albrecht could react, Martin’s other hand yanked the Silver Crown off his head.
Martin rolled away, clutching the crown with both hands, laughing in that eerie voice. Albrecht stared at him, aghast. Nobody had ever touched the crown before without screaming in pain as the silver burnt their flesh. Even those who had dared to touch it couldn’t budge it from his head. Only he could take it on and off.
Martin halted, staring at Albrecht with wide eyes, and dropped the crown onto his own head.
His forehead bubbled and extruded outwards. The skin split in a horizontal line across his brow, revealing a red orb with a catlike pupil. The eye began to glow, radiating a sickly red light in a swath before it.
Martin laughed again in that strange female voice and then screamed in the spirit tongue. The words rang out, echoing louder than his normal voice could have sounded. It sought out the ears of every Garou and insinuated a message: Flee!
The warriors holding the entry to the valley howled in fear and fell back, scattering across the valley. The Wyrm forces cheered and broke through, chasing after them, falling on their backs, hacking and slashing with claws and teeth.
Albrecht roared a command for his Garou to stop and fight but they didn’t seem to hear. He recognized the power that compelled them, for he was immune to it. The Silver Crown.
He rushed at Martin, raising his klaive.
Martin leaped back, yelling again: Defend me!
Mari Cabrah barreled into Albrecht, knocking him over. Her rear claws slashed at his legs, tearing open wounds. He snarled and hit her in the chin with his klaive's pommel. She reeled aside, clutching her jaw.
Then Evan leaped on him, punching him with fists. Albrecht grasped his waist and lifted him up, throwing him aside. He rolled in time to avoid three Wendigo who rushed his position.
Albrecht snarled, backing away from his own army.
• • •
Altair stumbled aside from the passage entrance. He clutched his left arm; he could no longer move it. He had fought in the second line, using his advanced fighting skills to keep the Wyrm forces at bay. Then his companions broke and ran, listening to a voice that carried across the valley.
He looked over at Martin and groaned when he saw the cub’s third, red glowing eye, just below the silver band on his brow. The prophecy had come true. The omen Loba had most feared about the boy. And the armies of destruction marched forth, led by the child that should not be and bearing the sign of the eye of the devourer upon its brow.
Martin had clearly used the Silver Crown’s powers of command, bolstered by the hypnotic red eye, to orchestrate a terrible rout of Garou forces.
Then he heard the voice, the strange, warbling female voice issuing from Martin’s throat. It was not Martin’s voice. He frowned. He knew that voice. He had heard it before. Ruatma, the Incarna of Uranus, had spoken a prophecy about Martin, but he called him ‘the Shadow Queen. ’ Altair had always wondered about the gender discrepancy, be now understood. Martin was possessed by a spirit, one so subtle and powerful it had gone undetected even by the greatest seers. He silently cursed himself for letting Loba keep the boy away from other Garou for so long. They might have sensed it before this disastrous moment.
He saw King Albrecht, backed against a wall by his own warriors. They slashed at him, keeping him from approaching Martin. Why doesn’t Martin's voice affect me’ he wondered. Have I progressed that far beyond illusion’
He shook his head and bolted forward, charging at the boy. Martin, who watched King Albrecht, failed to see the large Garou coming straight at him. Altair grasped the boy’s head in both his hands, holding tight, keeping Martin from turning his eye upon him. His palms burned where they touched the Silver Crown and he grunted in pain. He leaned his jaw against the boy’s ear and whispered two single words, backed by all his power: “Break free. ’’
He released Martin and leaped back, but the boy was insanely fast. He spun and hurled himself at Altair, driving his claws into his chest. Bones cracked and the Stargazer fell, shocked at Martin’s speed. His vision faded as his heart’s blood spille4. Vito the ground, but he saw Martin shake his head, clenching his eyes shut. The third eye’s lid lowered, shutting off the crimson light.
• • •
Martin opened his eyes and moaned in his own voice. He watched Altair’s eyes close and looked down at his own hands, streaked with the Stargazer’s blood.
"No, ” he said, shaking his head. “No. Not again. " He howled, clutching at the third eye on his forehead, clawing at it.
Some force worked against his muscles, drawing his hands away from the eye. An old woman’s voice inside his head said: Succumb.
Martin wailed in anger and clutched the Silver Crown. He screamed with all his might, in his own voice: “Get out! "
A wrenching pain shot through his skull, as if someone had driven a knife into his forehead. A shape shot out of his third eye, slapping onto the ground.
The manifest spirit looked like a shard of glistening wet shadow that had som
ehow crawled from a dark, moist cave. It writhed up and glowered at Martin. It had no eyes but he still knew it watched him. He realized that his command, bolstered by the Silver Crown, had forced the thing from his soul.
He growled, crouching low, moving toward it. It backed away. He could sense its fear now. He leaped forward and slashed at it, catching its bottom edge as it shot to the side. He tore a piece of inky blackness from it and the rest of it unraveled. Wisps of dark smoke dissipated with a faint, distant scream. An old woman’s scream.
Martin looked over the battlefield and cried out. Garou fought creatures throughout the valley, stumbling and slashing at one another. King Albrecht fought his own warriors. He buckled under the assault, beginning to falter, his fur red with his own blood.
Albrecht stumbled to the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Five Garou lay dead before him. Two of them were some of his best warriors. He’d had to kill them with his own hands. More warriors moved in, hot for his blood.
A black-furred dire wolf bolted into them, dropping them like dominos. A gray Garou kicked another warrior away and shook an open flask of water at Albrecht. The water hit his wounds and immediately closed them, sealing the cuts.
“Evan? ” Albrecht said, choking out the words from a parched throat.
“Yeah, ” Evan said, growling at a Garou who crouched nearby, threatening to approach Albrecht. “It’s me and Mari. " The black dire wolf shifted to battle form and slashed at the Garou on the ground, forcing them back. “We’re okay now. Back to our senses. "
Albrecht blinked, catching his breath. “Why you and not them? ”
“The red light, ” Evan said. “It was controlling us. I don’t know what it did to us, but as soon as it went out, I was in control again. I think these guys are still under the influence of the crown. ”
Albrecht growled. “I don’t know how that kid got it, but I’ve got to get it back! ”
• • •
Martin felt his forehead. The eye was still there. He cautiously willed it to open. The red light spread outwards. He took a deep breath and yelled, calling on both the power of the eye and the Silver Crown. Wyrm forces: retreat!
World of Darkness - [Time of Judgment 02] - The Last Battle Page 30
