by N E Riggs
David starting shooting again, throwing Bramira at the same time. The wolves collapsed, some inside the castle, others on the outside. Only one could get through at a time, and David could easily pick them off. But not all of the werewolves aimed for the hole. Some threw themselves at the wall beside the hole, making it bigger.
Soon the hole was too big for David to hold them all back. “Attack!” he yelled to the knights. With a roar, they rushed forward to meet the werewolves. David stayed where he was, shooting and throwing Bramira constantly. There was no time to think, no time to move, no time even to aim. He just kept shooting at everything white. The wolves were thick enough that he hit something every time.
It seemed to go on for ages. The hole got wider, more werewolves came, and yet more werewolves fell. One of the knights collapsed to the ground underneath a werewolf, his screams cut abruptly short. David shot faster, glad that his agitator never ran out of power, and more grateful for the way Bramira could kill three of four werewolves on every throw.
The other knights stayed close together in a tight circle, turning constantly, using their shields to protect the others. Beyond the hole, David could make out werewolves with arrows in them and others on fire – the knights on the wall were still alive and fighting.
He threw Bramira, barely cutting down a werewolf before it could leap on one of the knights, and suddenly nothing was moving. David lowered his agitator and caught Bramira. He looked around, panting. Mounds of dead werewolves filled the courtyard, the hole, and the area just outside the wall, but none of them moved. “Is that it?” he asked.
“Yes?” said one of the knights, as everyone looked about warily.
David let out a slow breath, his heart feeling like it wanted to beat its way out of his chest. “We should make sure they’re all dead,” he said, pointing to the dead werewolves with Bramira. The knights nodded and started going through the bodies, shoving their swords into anything that didn’t look dead enough. “Anything coming?” David yelled up to the knights still on the wall.
“Can’t see anything,” someone called down.
“Good.” He heard pounding feet and turned around to see Alosh running towards him. He had his agitator in his left hand, a sword in his right hand, and there were even more cuts on his uniform than had been there earlier. David saluted him, which was awkward since he hadn’t put his weapons away.
“Is everyone okay here?” Alosh asked, looking around.
“Not everyone,” David said. He walked over to the fallen knight. He pushed the dead werewolf away and winced. The knight’s armor had been sliced away along with most of his stomach. David cringed and stepped back, not knowing what else to do.
Alosh winced at the sight too. “Yesterlords watch over you and hold you tight.” He clapped his hands together six times then turned back to David. “We had a massive attack on the front wall, but it’s over for the moment.” He stared at all the bodies and whistled softly. “Looks like you did pretty good.” He nudged David in the side.
“Um, thanks?” Alosh was smiling despite the carnage. David managed a weak grin in response. “Are a lot of people dead?”
“A few,” Alosh said, his smile gone. “Not as many as there might have been. Bishop Longar thinks the fire killed a lot of the werewolves.” He shook his head. “Of course, considering how many still attacked, I don’t want to think of how many more there’d have been without the fire. Anyway, things are quiet now, but the night is still young. Keep on your guard.” David nodded. Alosh patted him on the shoulder and hurried off.
David helped the knights make sure all the werewolves were dead. A small fire raged outside this side of the wall, from the oil-covered corpses that littered the ground. The smell of it made David want to retch or at least put the fire out, but he knew he couldn’t. If there were any more werewolves, the fire might keep them away.
The wolf corpses inside the castle they piled inside the hole as a way to fill it up, and two of the knights carried the dead knight away into the castle. David sighed and finally put his weapons away. He sat on the ground and massaged his shoulder. He still couldn’t say how long the fight had lasted. It had felt like hours, but had probably only been a half hour at most. He ached anyway, so he figured he should rest while he could. Some of the knights were still keeping watch on the wall, and they’d give him warning if they saw anything else. Of course, he didn’t know how much they’d be able to see with all the fire and smoke.
To his surprise, the rest of the night passed peacefully. He heard occasional shouting coming from the other walls, but his post was quiet. He stared up at the moon sometimes, playing a spot the difference game to try and stay awake. Alosh dropped by a few more times, once bringing ale and warm gruel. David had thought the gruel looked awful when he’d seen it earlier in the day, but now he ate it without complaint and thought it tasted wonderful. It seemed there’d been a handful more werewolves attacking throughout the night, but nothing like that first surge.
Finally, the moon started to dip towards the horizon. There was no sign of dawn, but David could still barely see the sky. Most of the fire had died down close to the castle, as there was nothing else to burn, but the smoke was as thick as ever. Alosh said the fire was still going in the distance, miles away, eating more and more of the forest. He said it might be days before it died down entirely.
Eventually, even through the smoke, the sky started to turn light. Alosh came and told David and the knights with him to get some sleep. The knights showed David to a thin, lumpy pallet. He put down his weapons, kicked off his boots, and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
13
After the Full Moon
A sharp poke in the back woke him up. David groaned, swatting away whatever it was. His body still ached, and it felt like he’d gone to sleep only a few minutes ago. “Wake up,” Anur’s voice came, as she prodded him in the side. “Bishop Longar wants us.”
With another groan, David forced himself to roll out of the blankets. He pulled his boots back on and secured his weapons. He ran a hand through his hair, then winced. He was covered in sweat and smoke and other nasty things. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon,” Anur said. She looked in just as much a state as him, her normally straight black hair a tangled mess. He couldn’t see any injuries, to his relief. “The others are okay too. Bellon might be a little too okay.” She made a face.
David was too tired to ask. He followed her to the room where they’d met Rolan yesterday. The other Sword Priests were there, as were the other acolytes. Niam and Conal smiled at them. Niam stood in a way that favored her left foot, but they both looked well enough. They stood very close together and, though they tried to hide it, David could see they were holding hands. Bellon hovered at Iwel’s left hand, his chest puffed out. Rolan and Hue were looking at a map with Iwel.
“It’s too dangerous to go into the forest right now,” Rolan was saying. “The smoke is too thick.”
“We can’t wait long though,” Iwel said. “Some of the werewolves ran away. We need to catch them before the next full moon, and kill them.”
Rolan rubbed a hand across his face, leaving a sooty streak behind. “We don’t have the people or resources for that.”
“I know,” Iwel said. “I plan to return to Bantong and bring back some heavy artillery. And as many Sword Priests as I can get. There was no one before, but we have time now. Let’s make sure the werewolves never get the chance to recover. A gateway should appear around noon. Have the injured put together. I’ll take them back with me. I’m sure you need a rest, Tain,” he added to the Heart Priest.
The Heart Priest, Tain, looked over at him. He’d been sprawled in a chair, looking more asleep than awake. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he said. “Will you take some of the locals too?”
“Of course. What’s wrong?” Iwel asked, noticing Rolan’s frown.
“Your Grace--” Rolan paused for a long moment. “Should we bring heavy artillery to
this world? The locals have never seen the like.”
Iwel snorted. “You’re worried about preserving their culture now? They’ve already seen our agitators.”
“As you say,” Rolan said, but David thought he didn’t sound happy about it.
Iwel turned to the acolytes, save Bellon. “Help Tain with the wounded.” They nodded and followed Tain out of the room. There were more injured than David had expected, though he probably should have. Five of the Sword Priests were injured, as were ten knights. There was also some older people who had taken a bad cough from all the smoke, who Tain judged would be better off in Bantong.
One of the knights David recognized from last night – the young knight he’d spoken with before the attack. He’d been one of the ones left on the wall, and he had bad burns on his hands and arms. “You okay?” David asked him as he stood with him and the other injured in the main courtyard. He could finally see the damage from last night. There were far more holes in the walls here than the back, and the main door was half off its hinges. It took considerable effort to get it down.
The young knight grinned. “I fell into the oil when a wolf made the wall shake,” he said. “It was already on fire.”
David gave him a look. “Then why are you smiling?”
“Because we won,” he said, voice cheerful. “We prayed to Aeons for help, and you came and saved us. You were magnificent, sir, with your holy throwing circle.”
He meant Bramira, David realized after a moment. Face overheating, he muttered, “Thanks,” before hurrying to help carry a stretcher across the courtyard. He and the other acolytes helped the injured down into the remains of the village. The fire had swept through here, taking most of the houses with it. A few stone walls remained, and a handful of bricks still smoked. One of the old men stared around, tears on his face. David swallowed hard and wondered what would happen to the people now that their homes were destroyed. He hoped they’d be able to stay in the castle.
A gateway appeared a few minutes after noon. They helped the injured through the first gateway which got them somewhere on Bantong, then a second immediately after that to reach Thul. Heart Priests took the injured from there. Iwel went through the gateway too, looking determined. He disappeared somewhere in Valal. David and the acolytes went back to the castle where they were given mortar and bricks to start fixing the holes in the wall.
Iwel didn’t come back till a day later, but he’d used the time well. David stared, mouth hanging open, as tanks rumbled out into the remains of the forest and fighter planes filled the sky. “Where?” he said, looking up from his masonry. “How?”
Beside him, Anur laughed. “You think Sword Priests don’t have any resources?” she asked. “Or don’t you know about the armored division or the space force?”
He did remember now. “Never mind that, how’d they get the planes here? The gateway isn’t that big.” He’d seen some gateways that were ten feet by ten feet, maybe more, but nothing that looked big enough to get a plane through.
Anur rolled her eyes. “They used a gateway manipulator, obviously.” At David’s blank look, she giggled and said, “It’s a device that can make a gateway bigger. They can also be used to shift where a gateway opens – not very far, but at least a little. We use them to make sure gateways don’t open in the middle of buildings or on busy streets or in a river.”
“Yeah, that would be bad,” David said. He stared as another plane soared silently past overhead. They didn’t look that different from planes on Earth, except for the lack of a jet stream or engine noise, but he didn’t regularly see fighter planes so it was exciting.
On his other side, one of the local knights watched the planes, his mouth hanging open. He held up three fingers on each hand, saying, “Aeons protect” over and over again. Beyond the knight, David could see Conal and Niam working on another hole in the wall. Bellon wasn’t working on the wall – he was hunting through the near edge of the forest with some of the Sword Priests in Rolan’s unit, looking for any more werewolves. Apparently, his skills would be wasted on fixing the wall.
Quietly, David asked Anur, “Hey, how come the locals talk about Aeons? This isn’t Bantong.”
Anur cut away a half brick that remained on the edge of the hole. “I heard Vicar Teot say that regular gateways started opening up here about a hundred years ago. It’s not an allied world, but they aren’t completely ignorant.”
“Who?” David said.
“Vicar Hue Teot? He’s Steward Duran’s right-hand man.”
“Oh, sorry. I hadn’t heard his last name.” He hadn’t heard Rolan’s either, but she must mean him by Steward Duran; there were no other Stewards on Lunari.
“Well anyway,” Anur continued, “we’ve had limited contact with them ever since. Not too much, because they’d be overwhelmed by our technology. But we’ve helped before with the werewolves, and of course we told them about Aeons.”
David placed a brick in the spot Anur had cleared away. “Do people on a lot of other worlds know about Aeons?”
“All the Bantonan and allied worlds do, obviously. Lots of other ones too.” Anur stared intently at the brick as she plastered on the mortar. “It seems stranger to me that you’re from a world that doesn’t know Aeons. Everyone should worship Aeons. Without him, none of the worlds would even exist.” Her voice was quiet but intense.
“I’m sorry I don’t know,” David said after a long silence. “I am learning though.”
She turned to him. “You might be learning, but you don’t care about Aeons. You can’t stay like that if you’re going to become a Sword Priest. It’s not right.”
“I know,” David said. He wasn’t going to become a Sword Priest though, so it didn’t really matter. With the craziness of the last day on Lunari, he’d almost forgotten about failing the test. Now it all came back to him. He’d been troubled by the vows he’d have to take, since he didn’t really believe in Aeons, but that wasn’t a problem anymore. He supposed he should be grateful.
Over the next few days, they finished fixing all the holes in the wall. The planes and tanks covered the forest and everything beyond – it was apparently a moderate-sized island, a good distance from every other land mass on the world. Iwel wouldn’t let them leave until he was sure that every last werewolf was gone.
The planes found a few people living near the coasts and many more corpses. Most had been killed by the werewolves rather than the fire, but that was little relief. Once the planes and tanks were sent back to Bantong, Iwel had grain and dried meat and lots of ration bars sent over. The fire had destroyed all the crops, so the people would need all the food they could get. The injured locals recovered and returned to their relieved families.
After ten days on Lunari, Iwel felt the world would be able to continue without their constant presence. With a promise to check up on them regularly, he brought the Sword Priests back to Bantong.
As soon as he got back, David took a long, hot shower, the grit and grime of ten long days finally washing away. Then he ate a big meal of fresh fruit and curry, one thing the cooker could make Earth-style, though he had to describe it the first time. Anur, Niam, and Conal joined him, just as eager for a big, tasty meal after ten days of gruel. Bellon pretended like he was above it, but he dug into the food just as eagerly as anyone else.
The next day, Scatha gathered them together. Rather than taking them to the gymnasium to finally finish their testing, she brought them to a large, fancy chamber ten floors further down. The walls were decorated with pictures of men and women wearing white uniforms, and it took David a moment to realize they were past Sword Cardinals. He couldn’t see any pictures of Cethon, but there were an awful lot of pictures on the walls. At the far end of the room stood Iwel, along with Rolan and a woman David didn’t know. She wore a Passion Vicar uniform: rather than a jacket, she had a loose, knee-length robe on. She had brown skin and strawberry-blond hair pulled into a messy bun. She stared at the acolytes with vague, dreamy eyes.
Bellon didn’t look bothered one way or the other, but he’d already made Sword Priest. Anur stood straighter, a broad grin on her face. Conal puffed his chest out, clasping his hands together behind his back. Niam let out a happy little squeak. And David stood dumbfounded, mouth gaping open. He’d been so sure of his own failure that he wasn’t sure how to react to success.
Iwel gazed solemnly at them, but David thought he looked proud. “Each of you fought bravely and effectively, protecting those who needed you. You worked long and hard after the battle, and followed orders quickly and efficiently. Congratulations.” Then he gestured to the Passion Priest. “Steward Tresas Res is here to view you.”
David blinked at that. She was going to see visions about them? What for?
Tresas meandered over to the acolytes. Her gaze turned sharper as she looked over them each in turn. “This man,” she said, pointing at Bellon. He stood up straighter, his shoulders tense. “White surrounds him. He cannot escape it.” Bellon blinked at that. David frowned; he had no idea what that meant.
Iwel, Rolan, and Scatha shared a look, and Iwel didn’t look surprised. “Excellent. What of the others?”
Tresas continued down the line, staring intently at each acolyte. Though she studied Conal, Niam, and Anur, she didn’t say anything. When she finally reached David, she frowned. Her head titled to the side, and her eyes narrowed.
“Do you see anything?” Iwel asked.
She stared at him for a few more seconds then finally turned around, shaking her head. “Nothing for the others. I don’t see visions for most people, Your Grace. Not everyone is as interesting as you.” She gave Iwel a soft, private smile.
