The injured men were collected, the worst of the injured were placed on quickly fabricated sleighs, and there was no shortage of volunteers for the lone position of caretaker. After the injured repacked their provisions, they headed northwest towards Riga. Out of earshot, the men silently thanked God for the simple reprieve of not having to endure this suicide mission.
The remaining men filled themselves with moose meat and warm tea. The camp was torn down. A horn blew and they mounted their horses and headed southwest towards Pinsk. All were in good spirits and joking with one another—everyone except the king. He kept a stern eye out for trouble. He was convinced there were unknown horrors in these woods.
At first, they made good time through the low hills and around the mire of lakes that spattered the landscape, but their travel south was slowed by the dense spruce and pine that seemed to appear from nowhere. The woods were so thick at times that the canopy seemed to capture all the light and left the forest floor in complete darkness.
When they were deep in the woods, the king raised his hand, balled it into a fist, and the troop of men behind him halted. The commander rode up to his side.
“Is something wrong?”
“Shush …” The king implored, his eyes probing the darkened path ahead.
The commander held his breath and listened intently. He didn’t hear anything. “Sir, I don’t hear anything?” he whispered.
“I heard howls to our left,” the king whispered back as he brought his forefinger to his lips denoting silence.
“So, wolves, sir. Nothing to be afraid of.”
The woods were eerily quiet. No sound at all, only the occasional neighing of a horse. The commander backed around the king and came up on his right side. “Sir, I still don’t hear anything. Should I call the men to formation?”
“Shush …”
And then the commander heard it. He heard the same thing the king had heard moments earlier. A howl deep in the woods, then a return howl echoed through the dense forest, but the howls had a human quality as if they were speaking, communicating. It sent shivers over the commander’s arms and his horse bucked and backed away. He reined the animal in and situated himself beside the king. “Sir, that is, in a word, unnatural. I sensed them, the wolves in the distance. It’s almost as if they are speaking to one another?”
“Yes,” the king whispered, “I think they are. I think they are speaking of us.”
“Why?”
“Because I drove my stake into the heart of one of their own and buried him in the snow. Order the men to be alert, especially those with alarm horns. We should keep our wits about us as we move forward.”
The king and his men moved deeper into the forest. The shadows grew longer and only a soft afterglow of the blue sky above remained. The commander originally lined up the formation so that they were five men abreast, but the formation quickly fell apart as they navigated around trees, then an alarm horn broadcasted from the far back, then another and another.
The king rushed toward the back of the formation to find his men in complete confusion. Light was completely gone. Riderless horses darted past him, the glisten of fresh blood on their quarters. Another horn blasted. He found the bulk of his troop and corralled them together. “Dismount! And cover!” he screamed as he looked over the bodies that littered the forest floor. He called out for the commander, but there was no response.
“Where is the commander?” the king yelled.
“Dead!” A soldier shouted back.
“Who is attacking us?” the king asked as he backed into a soldier.
“More like what,” the soldier responded between rapid gasps for air.
Then a creature, half wolf, half man dragged a soldier in front of them and dropped him to the ground. The soldier wallowed in pain. Blood ran into his eyes from a gash on his scalp and he punched blindly at the creature with little effect. Then the thing, the wolf, the man, or whatever it was, bit into his neck, ripped away a mouthful of flesh, and the soldier suddenly stopped thrashing, stopped fighting back. The creature howled and two more creatures appeared behind him.
The king did a quick survey; around him in a tight circle were fifteen or so men. “Hold your ground, men! Hold your ground! Have your pikes charged and ready!” Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped onto the base of his pike. He felt energy rush through him and took in a lungful of air. “Charge!” the king yelled.
The men and the king took aim and rushed the creatures with their pikes out and horizontal. The king missed his mark and dove onto the ground to recover. He rolled onto his back and brought the pike out in front of him again. The creature was gone. He quickly sprang to his feet and heard something rushing through the brush behind him. He turned and just as the creature leapt, the king brought his pike up and centered it on the creature’s chest. It impaled him and it let out a blood-curdling howl, its limbs lashing out in final death throes toward the king. Another soldier had similar luck and another creature howled when the pike set in deep. The last creature halted his attack, growled on all fours, the stood, turned, and tore through the woods, a blur of flesh and fur. Then they were alone, the forest was silent and still. Everyone froze, pikes out and ready. All they could hear was their own heavy breathing and deserted horses thrash through the woods as the animals bolted in all directions.
The king pulled his pike from the dead creature and studied the dead animal. It seemed to shape shift, depending on how he considered it. If he thought of the carcass as human, then it looked more like a wolf with a long bridge for a nose, canine teeth and curved fingernails. If he thought of it as a wolf, it looked more human. The king prodded the animal with the tip of his pike. “They’re gone,” the king said, “but they’ll be back. Where is my commander?”
“He’s dead. Everyone is scattered, sir. What do we do now?” the soldier at his side answered, winded and still on edge and reacting to every sound in the woods.
“Sound the horns to regroup. Then collect any injured and scour the woods for casualties.”
The king pulled a map from his pocket and studied it. By his calculation, they were just north of the Polish border and the only marking on the map indicated that the forest ended along the border. He wanted to collect his men, inspect the wounded, and bury the dead. He wanted to move as quickly as possible through this unholy land, but knew better. He knew it was best to burn any bodies and camp this night, a decision he was sure would not sit well with his men.
They retreated to a clearing and set sentry posts. The sun had long ago abandoned them and the bonfire of bodies lit up the underside of the pine trees. The smell of burning flesh was horrible, so strong that it was almost a taste that floated on the air and coated the back of their throats. The final count: twelve dead, sixteen injured to the point that they couldn’t carry on, and forty-six unaccounted for. The remaining nineteen men knew that some of the missing soldiers were in the woods, dead or dying, but many of the others had fled when the ambush started. The creatures just came from nowhere and the surprise of it, the sheer voracity of the attack, scared them and the fear lingered. Though they didn’t say it, they felt like running, too.
“Burn the wolves’ bodies, too,” the king ordered.
“Yes, sir,” two men said as they made their way back up the path to retrieve the bodies.
“Sir!” one soldier called out to the king while dragging the carcass of one of the creatures.
“What is it?” the king asked.
“Sir, the wolf I slayed is gone. The only body left is the one you killed.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Sir, with all due respect, how could I not be? The blood of the creature was still on the ground, but the body was gone as if he got up and walked away.”
“How can that be, they were both dead. Did you pierce the heart?”
“Yes, sir, a number of times. I took no chances.”
“Odd. Toss that damn thing on the fire and bring me your pike. Bring mine, too.”
The two soldiers tossed the carcass on the fire and watched for several minutes to ensure it didn’t suddenly spring to life and run into the woods in some fiery retreat. They collected the pikes as ordered and reported to the king. “Sir,” one said, “the pikes.”
The king inspected the two pikes. Each was covered with the dark red of dried blood. The only difference between the two was that the king’s pike was tipped in ceremonial silver. That’s it, he thought. He at once understood. It must be the silver.
“Men!” the king shouted, “fall in and listen to me very carefully.”
The men fell in, in front of the king. He couldn’t help but notice that his once brave men, the very ones who took the fight to the Russians and won with valor, were now like frightened children.
“I want you to take all the silver crosses, buckles, coins, anything that is silver that was collected from the bodies of our fallen. Who here knows how to smelt?”
“I do,” one soldier volunteered.
Perfect, take the collected silver and smelt it. We need enough to cover the tip of every man’s pike. Do you understand? It’s the silver that kills them”
“Yes, sir.”
The king pulled the soldier who volunteered to smelt the silver to the side. “Listen, when you cover the pike tips in silver, select someone or several men to polish them to a high gloss. I want those creatures to see that we are prepared. I want them to know that another attack will lead to perpetual death for any that we slay. They know these woods and this is our only advantage.”
“Yes, my king.”
What remained of the king’s men couldn’t relax as nightfall came. They constantly fed the hardest wood they could find to the fire until it was red-hot. They were delighted when the silver began to melt and each was eager to have his pike dipped into the brilliant armament. Sentries teamed and watched the parameter of the camp. Orphaned horses moved in the dense brush. The sudden sound would startle them, and horns would falsely bellow. While the men were concerned for their well-being, the king lay on his back and studied the stars. Above them was the Arms of Scutum, named for the King of Poland who turned back the Turks. The king told the men of the tale, hoping to boost their morale and take their minds off what was in the woods.
Finally, one soldier asked what they all wanted to know. “What were they, sir? There were so few yet they devastated us.”
The king pulled his blanket over him and said, “They were lucky and caught us off guard is all. You saw, once we fell in formation and went on the offensive, they quickly fell. No man or horror can defeat men who are well trained.”
He pulled the blanket over his head and ordered from underneath, “Try to get some sleep.” He reached out and pulled his pike next to his body. His eyes were wide open.
* * * *
Viktor and his men made great time across the swathe of Sweden. Throughout the day, the winter sun never seemed to get all the way above the horizon. It just seemed to sit and wait for the earth to rotate past it. The air was crisp and cold, especially so in the late afternoon. They were still half a day’s travel before they would arrive at Stockholm. Then, ahead of them, the troublesome task of finding a sea captain that would scurry them across the Baltic. But Viktor knew, he just knew he would find one. He had to, to find his love and rescue her. Surely, there was one brave soul left that believed in love.
They settled in an open field just south of Bolstomta, found firewood, and made camp and nibbled on their provisions. It dawned on Viktor that he was now near the very spot he, it, his mission, this had all started. “Gentlemen, you can’t see it because it is dark, but just south of us is Lake Karlberg, the very spot I fell in love.”
His men couldn’t care less. Their thoughts were more about escaping this rescue mission as soon and as honorably as they could. They secretly wished a cavalry of men would gallop by and order them to join the ranks, convinced there was security in numbers. But as Viktor continued with his story, the men quieted and listened intently.
“She agreed to meet me there and believe me it took everything to convince her, but I was so delighted that she did. My heart pounded stronger and faster than the horse I rode to meet her. But it was worth it. In a word, she was ravishing.”
“How did you convince her?” one of men asked, more interested in passing time.
“Not really sure, it’s all a blur, really, but I promised my heart to her. Honestly, how we ended up there is beyond me, but we did. When I arrived, she was sitting under a willow wearing a white blouse that seemed to capture the falling rays of the sun and, trust me, she had the power to do with the rays as she pleased. The golden hue of the afternoon sun seemed to encapsulate her, it embraced everything that was beautiful and she glowed. I dismounted and let my horse run free. I just didn’t care. I was completely unsure of what to do next.”
“What did you do?” the youngest soldier asked.
“I stepped toward her. Patted my right pant pocket to make sure I hadn’t lost the gift, a diamond necklace I had purchased months in advance, and I sat beside her underneath the willow. I would love to tell you I controlled it, the encounter, but that would be a lie. I now know she was in control the entire time, even before we agreed to meet. I now know she was in control the moment I first said hello. At times, her lips were so close to mine that I think my heart stopped and I sensed my breaths escape me. I think I breathed, but I’m not sure.”
His men leaned in closer; in unison they asked, “What happened next?”
“Well an honorable man, a gentleman, should never tell, but since you two are so inquisitive, I guess there’s no harm in telling my tale, but know this, I was in love before this day. I think I loved her the moment I saw her.”
“Well?” the men grilled, not concerned with the trivial details of love.
Viktor closed his eyes and fell on his back, recalling that distant day. “I will say this. She didn’t disappoint. As beautiful as she was dressed, she was breathtaking when naked. And she was slow, so slow to reveal herself. And I was in a state of pure anticipation. I have to admit, my mouth watered when I saw her exposed rounded breasts and erect nipples. All I could think of was kissing her, placing my mouth and hands on her. In a sense, I wanted to consume her, all of her, every ounce, and every inch of her beautiful flesh. The thought of her near me, with me, and her revealing herself to me drove me nuts. I couldn’t make up my mind what part of her I wanted first.”
“And then?” they both asked, a bit agitated with the useless semantics.
“What?” Viktor teased, knowing they wanted the details.
“What happened? Did you fuck her?” the bolder of the two asked, wanting to get to it.
“No. What happened between us was far from the quick soldier sex you have with the common townswoman. Crimson and I made love. Do you know what it means to make love?”
“No!” the two responded, disappointed in the lack of details.
“You actually make love,” Viktor replied, his mind elsewhere, searching that hidden spot in hearts where love hides. “Love was there between us, but when you make it, it fills your imagination and becomes a thin invisible shroud that wraps the two individuals into one. It snares in everything like the nets we use to fish with. Forget about the release you two have during a quick tryst behind a tree. There is no comparison. When you’re making love, you kiss her skin and it’s even sweeter. When you kiss her mouth, it’s tender and hungry at the same time. When you touch her, her body seems to know who you are and it wants you. Making love makes your toes curl, but not because you orgasm. It is far more satisfying. Emotions, bodies, tongues, hands seem to glide over and through each other and it’s buzzing all around you. That same thin shroud that wraps you brings about an immense intensity. It lets no touch, no gasp, or emotion escape. Everything was trapped and it’s lovely and exciting. Then the afterglow and it’s completely absent of selfish treachery. All you can sense is your own humanity and the immortality of love. Then that i
nvisible shroud slowly slips off the sweat-covered bodies. It faded away and there, next to you, is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen and you’re connected. You know you’re forever connected. It reshapes your mind.”
Viktor rolled to his side. “Get some sleep, men. Tomorrow we’re on the Baltic and I fear it will be hell.”
Chapter VI
~ Crimson and Tor ~
Early in the morning, the countess was up, not because she wanted to capture the day, but because a caretaker woke her with news that Sena was deathly ill. She rolled to her side to find Tor was already up and about.
“Ill?” the countess asked peeling open her eyes.
“Yes, my lady. She’s very hot and her face is pale.”
“Very well, get my robe and bring me some tea. I will see what’s wrong with this girl.”
“One other thing, my lady.”
“What?” the countess asked agitated as she sat up in bed. “What is it?”
“The other one, the one named Crimson, she is not in her quarters.”
The countess’s jaw tightened. She mumbled, “He had not better be…” as she looked at the empty spot where her husband should be.
“Shall I instruct the guards to begin a search?” the caretaker asked.
“No!” the countess barked, “No! Don’t do a thing! I will find my husband and I’m sure I will find Crimson, too. Tend to the sick girl. I will check on her later.”
“Yes, my lady.”
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