As Aurelius was considering these things, he became gradually aware of the sharp whispers rising from his phalanx. The men seemed agitated.
“What’s going on?” Aurelius whispered to the nearest man.
That man jumped with fright, but visibly relaxed when he saw only Aurelius standing behind him.
“Someone is missing,” the man said.
“What? How?”
The man shook his head. “No one saw what happened to him. One minute he was there, and the next . . . gone.”
Aurelius felt a chill creeping down his spine. He cast a quick look over his shoulder and felt a thrill of adrenaline send sparks shooting through his fingertips as he realized that he was in the rearmost rank of the rearmost phalanx. He wasn’t even technically a part of the formation, making him and Gabrian the most logical targets for any predator to pick off.
Aurelius’s fist tightened around the butt of his pistol, and he whispered to Gabrian, “I don’t like this.”
“Shhh.”
Aurelius looked away with a frown. Something told him that his life didn’t mean much to the old man, but it gave him comfort to know that Gabrian needed him to pilot the Halcyon.
Aurelius’s gaze skipped nervously through the trees, his head turning this way and that in quick sweeping arcs. The men had quieted again, but apparently they were not willing to stop marching to look for one missing man. Perhaps it was not unusual for a few men to go mysteriously missing on a hunt, but that made Aurelius uneasy. They were too eager to give up one of their own for dead, as though they feared that by stopping they’d all be lost.
A number of minutes passed in silence and Aurelius’s pounding heart began to slow to a more reasonable pace. He breathed a deep sigh and heaved his shoulders uncomfortably. His coat was almost making him sweat. Something about the forest was definitely heating the air. The persistent icicles upon the tree branches were testament that the temperature was still below zero, but he couldn’t imagine it was by much.
Suddenly Aurelius heard sharp whispers among the men, and his heart rate spiked. Had someone else gone missing?
“. . . is that you? Where in the name of the ancestors were you? We thought you’d been . . . taken. Sargham?”
There was a long pause, and then there came a gruff mumble for a reply.
“Well, next time you have the need, hold it until Rathgur calls a halt. You know better than that! No one leaves the phalanx until the chieftain calls a rest.”
Another mumble.
“You sound strangely, Sargham. Are you okay?”
Aurelius strained to make out the man’s mumbled reply, but found it to be too far beyond the edge of his hearing.
“You shouldn’t have come if you weren’t feeling well.”
Someone hissed angrily at the pair of hunters for making so much noise and they grew silent. Aurelius felt unsettled by the reappearance of the missing man, almost more so than by his disappearance. It seemed out of place with the men’s general aura of fear and caution that one of them would split off from the group without so much as a word to his fellows. Perhaps the forest wasn’t as dangerous as they pretended it to be?
As Aurelius was considering that, the phalanxes abruptly stopped marching. He felt another sweaty spike of adrenaline and waited to feel the ground shuddering beneath his feet with the approach of another leviathan, but instead he saw the phalanxes relax their formations ever so slightly. Men were setting their shields on the ground and taking swigs of water from insulated canteens, while others were producing strips of dried meat from their coats and chewing nervously on them. Yet a few more split off from the formation entirely and walked to one side where others were massing. As Aurelius watched, he saw a few of the men set down their arms and begin fiddling with their raiment, their backs turned to the others. The rest kept their weapons and shields in hand and glanced about warily.
The ground began hissing with steam as the men who’d set down their arms relieved themselves. Aurelius nodded slowly to himself. The chieftain called a halt. So why didn’t the missing man wait? A frown wrinkled Aurelius’s brow as he watched the men take turns relieving themselves while the others stood guard.
“Sargham, you’re a cripping faucet, you know that? You just went!”
“Shhh!” hissed a nearby huntsman.
Aurelius watched their “missing” man amble over to the group of men waiting to use the makeshift latrine. Even for one of the giant men of Nordom, this man was large. He stood head and shoulders above the others and his heavy round shield looked like a toy in his hands. Once he reached the others, he dropped his shield with a noisy clunk, but instead of moving to the back of the line or taking up a position with the other guards, Sargham walked straight up to a man in a blue and white fur coat and tapped him on the shoulder. The man cast a scowl over his shoulder just in time to see the fist swinging for his face. He barely had time for the shock to register before Sargham’s knuckles met his nose in a meaty crunch.
To his credit the man gave nothing but a stifled cry and he stayed on his feet, clutching his bloody nose in both hands. The men standing guard snapped into action without even a second’s delay, barring the attacker from his victim with spear points raised and thrust out toward him, but Sargham was already spinning away from the confrontation, his teeth bared in a jagged, spitting fury. His emerald eyes were flashing, and his hands were clenched in rigid claws. He’d dropped his spear, too, as though he needed no weapons to defend himself. The attacker began backing away slowly, in the process half turning to face Aurelius. It was then that Aurelius really saw Sargham. His thick black beard and long, wild black hair were completely out of place with the almost uniformly fair men of Nordom, and Aurelius had never seen eyes like those in all his life, so deeply green, nor had he ever seen nails so long and sharp. Sargham was either a very scruffy, unusual man, or . . .
“A werewolf,” Gabrian whispered.
The man seemed to swell before their eyes, splitting his coat and armor open like a chick breaking out of its shell. The man’s face distorted, growing longer and hairier, more triangular in appearance. His arms and legs bulged and writhed with cords of muscle and suddenly his skin was covered in coal black fur. His eyes grew larger and deepened in color, becoming a clearer, darker green, and his ears formed pointy, fur-covered tips. Suddenly, Aurelius knew he was looking not at a man, but at a wolf. From its giant paws to its slavering jaws the beast was a rippling mass of terrifying fury, towering at least a foot above even the largest of the giant men of Dagheim. As he watched, it dropped down on all fours, but seemed no less imposing for its sudden lack of height. It was the size of a bear.
The men were cautiously pushing the monster deeper into the shadowy forest with warning thrusts of their spears, and the wolf was reluctantly backing away, its jaws snapping and snarling at them. The nearest phalanx moved to join the fray as though the half a dozen men already confronting the beast wouldn’t be enough to stop it.
“Aurelius, we must take cover. Come.”
Aurelius went on staring dumbly at the scene as if he hadn’t heard. Take cover? he wondered as a hazy curtain of unreality settled over his mind. Why should we take cover?
Suddenly the wolf tossed its head back and howled so sharply that Aurelius felt the urge to clap his hands over his ears.
A terrified shout went up behind him, and Aurelius spun around to see dozens of shadowy beasts bounding down out of the trees and landing in the midst of the distracted phalanxes. Horrible noises rose into the night; the sounds of flesh thumping against steel and men screaming their last as wet tearing and ripping noises reduced their screams to gurgles.
Aurelius reeled away from his phalanx as a trio of dark monsters fell into the middle of it, ripping the orderly formation into terrified shreds. Men were literally flying out of the middle of the phalanx and landing on their fellows’ spears.
This couldn’t be happening. He was dreaming. It was all one long, horrible nightmare, and he was j
ust about to wake up. A massive beast with corpse gray fur landed on all fours in front of him and met his terrified expression with a contemptuous snarl of glistening white fangs. A flash of light in his peripheral vision caught his eye and he saw Gabrian pinned beneath another wolf and warding off the beast’s jaws with glowing palms. The beast before Aurelius padded slowly forward and Aurelius drew his weapon. He pulled the trigger in a hasty shiver of fear, but nothing happened.
Safety’s still on! Aurelius fumbled desperately with the gun in his suddenly numb fingers. It’s a nightmare; it’s a nightmare; it’s a nightmare. . . .
He looked up just in time to see the wolf pounce, its jaws gaping wide enough to swallow his head whole.
Chapter 8
Reven snarled and darted away from a pair of glinting spears. He was being pushed farther and farther from his goal. The man with the lumpy face and the crooked, bleeding nose had already recovered. He’d reset his own nose without so much as a whimper, and the blood had by now stopped flowing out between his fingers. Now that man joined the festering masses of humans chasing Reven and his pack deeper into the forest.
They were outnumbered ten to one. Two packs had joined the battle, Reven’s and their sister pack, but now that they’d lost the element of surprise, they were losing ground fast. Tortured howls and whimpers made Reven’s blood boil with rage. His pack was dying, and if he didn’t do something soon, they’d all be dead. As their alpha, they would follow him even if it meant their deaths. It was a matter of honor. It was up to Reven to retreat or stay and fight. He knew that now the wise thing would be to retreat, but every time he caught a whiff of his mate’s fur mingled with the sweaty stench of human fear, a fresh snarl tore past trembling lips and he renewed his attacks.
Without warning, Reven leapt over the hunters before him and landed behind them. With a mighty swipe of his claws, he almost decapitated one man and sent another stumbling backward as his dead comrade fell upon him. Reven whirled around, his claws dripping with blood, and found the lumpy-faced man. He bounded toward the miserable human on all fours. Why hadn’t he ripped the man’s throat out when he’d had the chance?
But he knew why. He wanted revenge. He wanted the man to suffer. Reven saw the man’s spear drop to eye level, and that man gave a toothy grin. Reven’s green eyes narrowed in concentration. When he was almost an arms’ length from the gleaming point of that spear, Reven launched himself straight up with all his might. He flew high above the spear and the man holding it and landed on a tree branch overhead. His landing knocked a giant icicle loose which clipped the lumpy-faced man on his shoulder as it fell. The man wobbled uncertainly on his feet, momentarily set off balance by the impact.
Reven saw this as his opportunity and he dropped straight down from the branch. He landed on the man’s back. Barely managing to restrain himself, he clawed the man’s neck and mauled his head, still trying not to kill, only to injure grievously.
The man screamed horribly, and Reven dug his claws in deeper. Suddenly the man’s screams died with a gurgle. Reven released him with disgust and tossed him to the ground. He wrestled his mate’s pelt off the corpse; then he saw the foul human bloodstains marring her lustrous blue fur, and he threw his head back and howled. Furious, he picked up the man’s corpse in his jaws and tossed it with all his might into the still raging battle. He watched with dismay as the corpse fell heavily on an unsuspecting member of his pack. Gregerr fell beneath the sudden weight with a barely discernible grunt of surprise. He shook it off with surprising speed, but the midget of a man standing before him aimed a strange black stick at him, and then the air was suddenly rent with a loud screech and a bright red flash of light. The light connected with Gregerr’s body, briefly illuminating his furry gray bulk. Reven watched in horror as his packmate’s front leg flew off in a spray of blood and fur. Gregerr collapsed with a horrid howl, and then came another sickening screech and flash of light, and the howl was cut off abruptly as Gregerr’s head became a smoking ruin of melted flesh and bone.
Reven howled in outrage and bounded toward the puny man. His green eyes narrowed in on the kill. His jaws slavered with anticipation. The man was still gazing at the Gregerr’s smoking remains, oblivious and gloating over his kill, when Reven snarled and pounced. Suddenly that man spun toward him, his stick raised to defend himself, but it was too late.
* * *
Aurelius frowned miserably at the gruesome remains of the wolf. Yes, the beast had tried to kill him, but it seemed cruel to have slain the monster so unfairly, with a weapon so much more powerful than any that creature might have faced before. Seeing the smoking ruin of the beast’s mighty head and smelling the stench of burnt fur and meat was making him dizzy with nausea.
He heard a sudden snarl and Aurelius spun away from the dead monster only to find himself face to face with another one. This one was different—larger, its fur an inky black, its eyes a wild and burning green—and it was headed straight for him. He raised his pistol for another shot and pulled the trigger, but a sullen click sounded from the weapon, reminding him that he’d overheated it by firing two maximum power shots back to back. It would be minutes before it was ready to fire again.
Aurelius felt a stab of dread and then watched, helpless, with a sense of numb, disbelieving terror as the wolf pounced. He’d expected to face his death some day in front of a Dominion firing squad or perhaps in a roiling explosion in the middle of deep space, but not like this, not torn apart and eaten by a monster he couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmares. . . .
He closed his eyes and waited to feel the searing stab of pain as his throat was torn out by teeth as long as his fingers.
But nothing happened.
He heard vicious snarling in his ears, but felt no pain. Confused, Aurelius opened his eyes and saw the wolf’s mighty jaws snapping impotently at the air bare inches from his nose. He jerked back with a sudden fright and saw Gabrian advancing on the creature, his staff outstretched, its focusing crystal glowing an icy blue. The old man’s lips were moving, but Aurelius couldn’t hear what he was saying over the wolf’s snarls. When Aurelius looked back at the wolf, he saw that the monster’s feet were kicking uselessly in the air as it hovered several feet above the ground. He blinked stupidly at the impossible sight, though he should have known better by now than to consider anything in this strange world impossible.
Gabrian came to his side and set a hand upon the wolf’s mighty shoulders. The wolf turned its slavering fangs on him, trying desperately to reach his arm. Yet even as it stretched its neck to the limit, Gabrian’s wrinkled flesh was just a few inches out of reach. Aurelius marveled that the old man could be so calm with the wolf so close to reaching him.
“Do you hate us, wolf?” Gabrian said, with a mocking lilt to his voice.
Aurelius smirked in spite of the situation. That the creature hated them was obvious, though it seemed ridiculous for Gabrian to ask it as though it could understand.
“We are not the ones who slew your mate.” The wolf stopped snapping its jaws and turned to glare at Gabrian intensely.
Aurelius frowned as he realized that the old man was somehow able to read the wolf’s thoughts. But how was that possible? Were wolves even capable of complex thoughts and emotions?
“Those men,” Gabrian gestured vaguely over his shoulder with his glowing staff, “are the ones you hate, but now is not the time for revenge. Bide your time and let your hatred grow as you watch as your brothers and sisters slaughtered before your eyes.”
Aurelius gaped at Gabrian, hoping desperately that the wolf couldn’t understand what he’d just said. That hope was abruptly shattered as the wolf’s bared its teeth in a furious snarl. Flecks of blood and saliva sprayed from the beast’s jaws. Aurelius felt droplets of moisture landing hotly on his face and watched with disgust as Gabrian met the barrage with a blissful smile, as though he took some perverse pleasure in the wolf’s ragged fury. After just a few seconds he turned away from the beast and wrapped
an arm around Aurelius’s shoulder to guide him away.
“Come, let us watch the rest of the battle from a safe distance.”
Aurelius felt a sick kind of horror crawling around in his belly as he trudged across the bloody, dirty snow. The fluorescent lichen lit the scene in concealing shades of blue and green, so the crimson stains appeared only as dark patches upon the snow.
He and Gabrian stopped when they reached a massive tree and turned to watch the battle with a knobby root guarding their backs. Aurelius found his eyes skipping between the wolves still fighting for their lives and the massive, shuddering black monster watching the battle impotently to one side. The men had reformed into half a dozen smaller phalanxes, presenting impenetrable walls of steel to the remaining wolves. Those few wolves circled the formations restlessly until they grew impatient and pounced with random fury. There was no strategy or synchrony to their attacks, and with every wolf that pounced there came a stab and thud of steel against flesh, followed by a sharp squeal of pain or a strangled whimper. With every death and cry of animal pain, the black wolf—still frozen and hovering in the air—howled raggedly, sending chills down Aurelius’s spine. He felt horrible and shot Gabrian an accusing glare. The old man returned his look with a smug grin.
“How can you be so cruel?”
The old man raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “Cruel?”
“You left him there to watch his pack die.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t see how that’s cruel?”
“Would it be better to let him die?” A bright flash of light caught Aurelius’s eye and Gabrian pointed to it. “Look.”
Aurelius followed Gabrian’s crooked finger to where a giant man stood gaping at the black wolf hovering above the ground, his spear lying shattered at the wolf’s feet. Even as they watched, the man snapped out of his disbelief, drew his sword and raised it over his head for a mighty two-handed swing. Aurelius grimaced as the sword came down on the wolf’s neck.
Mrythdom: Game of Time Page 7
