Ataris seized the moment and raced in for another attack. He leapt up as Gork’s arms swung… and missed. The wolf’s ivory fangs did not. The alpha male clamped down and his teeth carved into the base of the gorilla’s neck.
The screech escaping the Ghast’s mouth could be heard for leagues. Part growl, part cry, the frightening sound communicated one message as clear as speech. The Ghast were defeated, and their leader was at the threshold of death.
Gork scratched and clawed to pull the wolf from his wounded neck, but the canine’s jaws locked down, refusing to release even a fraction. This was a death grip, and only the demise of one or both of them would end the struggle.
The gorilla’s sight started to fade as blood moving to his head spilled out of his neck and down his back and chest. With every squirm or twist from his foe, the wolf bit down harder… and deeper. Gork only had a few more moments of consciousness until his mortal sojourn abruptly ended.
The Ghast leader looked to the sturdy wooden fence and did the only thing his frantic mind could think of… he headed for the barrier. In a game of tug-of-war, the indomitable wolf and the desperate gorilla slowly inched nearer the fence.
Adolphus and Magnus heard the screams of the Ghast coming from within the village compound, but continued anyway.
The wolf attempted several more times to persuade the young barbarian to choose another course, but the arguments were ignored. The boy was determined to do something, but they had to find a way back into the village first.
They had not walked along the perimeter of the fence for long when Adolphus spotted a gate opening on the far side of the barrier. The boy was the closest to the wooden poles when a section of palisades ruptured in a ball of dust, dirt, and black and gray fur.
Gork had charged the barrier, stumbling on all fours with Ataris still firmly affixed to his neck. At the last moment, the ape lowered his shoulder and rotated just enough to angle his torso in a way that the brunt of the blow smashed into the wolf, and the two creatures burst through the fence.
The force of the blow snapped some poles in half and disintegrated others into shards of broken wood. One wooden projectile glanced off Adolphus, knocking the wind of out of the boy and sending him spiraling to the ground. Blood ran from his right ear and his lip was split. He gasped for breath, clutching his chest and stomach, and fought back the urge to scream or cry.
Magnus was just quick enough to avoid the pole. He ducked under it, his whiskers brushing the bark of the wood, as it spun overhead and impaled the ground only a few paces away. The wolf skidded to a stop and quickly circled Adolphus.
The young Shade Wolf froze. Behind him, at the center of the cloud of dust, he heard two distinct sounds. One was the quiet whimper of a wolf whose sound he recognized. The other was not a wolf. He turned and watched as Gork stumbled from the haze, shaking his head. One of his huge hands, pressed against the jagged gash in his neck.
Magnus growled as his fur on his body stood on end. He bared his teeth as his lips curled up.
Still dazed from the collision, Gork could barely focus, but the wolf’s warning snapped him back into a moment of clarity. The gorilla’s rage overflowed, but he was in no condition to fight. He thought only to escape and to exact his revenge on the Shade Wolves on some other occasion.
But Magnus was in his way.
As the Ghast stumbled towards Magnus, the wolf held his ground. He barked and howled for the beast to alter course, but it kept advancing, staggering with every step.
Magnus snapped at anything close, missing until he finally grabbed hold of the ape’s leg.
Weakened, Gork still found enough strength to keep moving, even with the young wolf at his leg. Magnus did not have the same size or strength as his father and could not keep his grip on the enemy.
As the wolf released to get a better angle for another bite, the Ghast tripped on one of the fence poles.
Magnus’s head slammed into the ground as the gorilla’s weight pressed against him as they fell. The image of Gork’s ugly face faded. The young wolf blacked out.
The Ghast could hear the barks of the rest of the wolves as they charged through the destroyed section of the barrier. Gork could not see Ataris, but then noticed the motionless Shade Wolf lying at his side. He grabbed a fistful of fur and hoisted Magnus up, the wolf’s legs and head swinging in the air.
The gorilla leader only had a moment before the rest of the pack would be at his heels, but he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.
“Wolf, I end you,” he said as he balled his other hand into a fist and raised it.
“No!” screamed Adolphus as he ran towards the wounded gorilla. Catching the animal by surprise, the young barbarian drove his knife into the back of its leg.
Gork flinched and dropped the wolf as he wheeled around to confront this new threat.
Adolphus stood toe to toe with Gork, looking up at the beast as the ape looked down at him.
“He’s my…” Adolphus started to shout, but the gorilla’s giant hand snagged him.
Gork raised the boy so they could see each eye to eye. He roared, and flashed his fierce fangs, but the child showed no fear.
Instead, Adolphus roared back, just like he had heard the wolves do many times. He still held his dagger, and then he raised the weapon and then swung down to jab it into the Ghast’s chest.
Gork ignored the superficial wound and instead, squeezed the boy. He crushed the barbarian until blood started to seep from the corners of Adolphus’ mouth. The gorilla leaned in and watched as life left the child’s body. As the boy let out one last breath, the ape flung his victim aside.
Adolphus slammed against the fence and slid to the ground. His head drooped to the side, but not before his eyes looked at Magnus… the wolf’s chest still rising and falling in labored breathing. Magnus, my friend, he thought and then closed his eyes.
CHAPTER 16
Kelor growled as he stretched, extending his front paws, arching his back and contorting his neck. A long yawn followed and then he dropped back down to his belly and licked his chops. Why do they never feed me? he asked himself.
The young panther had little choice but to lay there in his new cage. The Warden’s men had hastily built the enclosure with the limited resources they could scavenge on short notice. Kelor seemed to be growing a foot every day, and that made the steel container practically unusable by the time it was finished. The cat had just enough room to turn around, but it was so narrow he could only lie lengthwise.
The tent city had converted to a mobile caravan overnight. Kelor had been fast asleep and when he awoke the group was well underway. The cat wasn’t sure what the reason was, but there was urgency among the slaves and staff. Wherever they were going, they were going in a hurry. Perhaps the Warden has caught the scent of a new beast to hunt.
A deep, raspy cough from behind him caught the panther’s attention. He looked back over his shoulder and watched as Dox stumbled to keep up with the cart transporting Kelor’s cage.
“You’re still here?” the cat asked. “I saw a rotting carcass on the side of the road a while back; thought that was you, Dox.” Kelor then started licking his front paw.
“Yes, and you’re still in a cage,” the Minotaur shot back. His two large hands were cuffed together with steel bracers, and a long, thick chain fastened to one of the steel bars of Kelor’s cage. Oddly enough, the two were connected again, this time literally.
Kelor rolled to his side, his eyes and head still facing in Dox’s direction so he could continue the insults. “I mean really, what’s the point? To get your horn back? There must be a thousand other paths to take. Why endure this?” he asked.
Dox, still aching from his wounds, managed to keep pace with the caravan. His strength was gradually returning as was his angst. “You wouldn’t understand. How could you? Your whole world, your whole life has been looking out from that cage. You know nothing of risk, reward, honor… or sacrifice. You care for nothing other than you
rself and your next meal,” he answered. The man-beast realized his response didn’t really answer Kelor’s question. But the cat didn’t seem to notice.
“Good point. When will we eat?” asked the panther.
“See, you know nothing of the creed of the herd. The blessings of family, the duties of one Minotaur to another. You think of only yourself. I pity you, giant cat.”
Kelor sat up and looked over to Dox in smoldering anger. “I had a family! They were taken from me! Stolen by the fire monster. You did nothing. You let them burn!”
It wasn’t I who let them burn, Kelor, thought Dox. He wanted to disclose more but resisted. He’s not ready for such painful truths. This is not the time for that, nor the place to share that information.
The Minotaur had blanked out memories of the fire at the camp, the panther’s mother and siblings, and especially the dark secrets of that terrible event. He did not mean to provoke the cat with such a jab. It was a foolish and ignorant comment. One mistake among many he had made recently.
“I wish the Warden would have ended your life then. He was going to set them free,” Kelor continued.
“Why didn’t you bring my life to an end? How many nights were we together in the pit, and you did nothing? If you truly wanted vengeance, you had your chance. I guarantee the Warden wagered you’d take it. Why didn’t you?”
“Shut your muzzle, beast. Perhaps I wanted to see you suffer. Or perhaps… I wanted you to be strong enough so I could… end you the right way. I don’t have to tell you.” Kelor tried to sound full of loathing and menace.
“I doubt that. You want to hate me… and I don’t blame you, but I don’t think that’s who you are. No. I’m certain of it. There’s more to you than fangs and claws,” said the Minotaur.
It was a compliment, but to Kelor it didn’t feel like one.
“What do you know?” said the cat. “You’re a slave, like me. There is no future for us beyond steel and pain.”
Dox quickened his pace so he could walk alongside Kelor’s cage so they could speak clearly… and privately. “I know this. Do not make the same mistake I made, Kelor.”
“And what is that?”
“I say this only to spare you the same fate as I. Do not trust the Warden. He is a creature without remorse, without conscience. In a word, he is … evil.”
Kelor snorted and rolled over. “You get what you deserve. We all do,” said the panther as he tried to suppress the memory of his mother, his brothers, and the fire monster that haunted his sleeping dreams and his waking mind.
****
A semblance of silence escorted death to the village dressed in a composite of muffled sounds. They did not echo throughout the forest, but hung close to the ground in intimacy and solemnity. They were the moans and groans of the dying, the crackle and creaks of ebbing fires, and the sobs and lamentations of women and children.
“Adolphus!” shouted the chief of the village as he limped among the village buildings. “Where is my son? He should have returned from the forest by now.”
Magnus heard none of this, his unconscious mind and ears shielded him from the carnage as he lay nestled in the forest grasses.
Thayne hobbled toward the village gate, scanning every niche in search for his boy’s face. “Have you seen him?” he asked one of the wolves. “Did Magnus take him back to Thornmount?” he asked another. “Where is my son?”
The wolves said nothing. They lowered noses to the ground and looked into the forest, along the fence line. One by one they backed away from the barbarian, revealing a path that led directly to the leader of the pack.
Ataris sat as tall as he could. His right leg was badly mangled, and he held it off the ground, curled against his body. His uninjured leg steadied his weight. The alpha wolf looked to Thayne and then over to a small object near the wooden barrier.
The chief ran as fast as his ruined limbs allowed. Even before he was close to Adolphus, he recognized the fur-covered jacket and leggings of his boy. The giant man collapsed at the feet of his fallen son. “No! Not him!” he wailed as he scooped up his son with his one good arm.
The father’s wails shook Magnus from his dreamless state. He sat up, shaking his head. The wolf remembered the ugly, scarred Ghast coming upon them. He remembered the beast’s body crashing down on him, and his head slamming against the ground. And then darkness.
“Adolphus!” yelled Magnus as foreboding ripped through his foggy mind.
Bruised and sore from the confrontation with the gorilla, Magnus labored to his feet. He had no serious injuries, though his legs felt weak as his body and brain adjusted to consciousness.
Magnus turned his head to search for his friend.
Sensing his confusion, a wolf nudged Magnus with his nose and then pointed to fence line.
The young wolf watched as Thayne struggled to his feet. The proud father stood tall, his head held high. He walked back to the entrance of the village, holding the lifeless cargo in his thick arms. Each step brought pain, but he clenched his jaw in a noble effort to mask his feelings of physical pain and emotional heartbreak. None of that mattered right now.
No one spoke or moved except Ataris, and he followed Draghone, limping but intent on staying close to the human. The rest of the Shade Wolves, including Magnus, fell in line behind their leader and the solemn procession continued the silent march through the gates.
“We did it, Magnus. We did it!” said Dain as he trotted up, oblivious to what was happening or the sacred feeling of the moment.
Magnus shot his brother a glance of contempt and then gestured to the head of the group and to the chief.
“What?” asked Dain. “What’s happening?”
Villagers and wolves alike filed in, keeping their distance and their silence. They all looked at Thayne as he limped through the center of the compound. Adolphus’ limp arms and legs swayed with each labored step of his father.
Thayne carefully laid his son’s body on a table near the middle of the village. He folded the boy’s arms across his chest and straightened his legs. The father tore a piece of his fur-covered vest and rubbed the dirt and blood from the child’s face.
Once the stains were removed from the young barbarian’s face, an expression of serenity was left. His father, however, felt anything but peace. But the mantle of leadership rested on his shoulders, and he was not the only who had suffered a loss on this terrible day. He was the chief. Pain and loss would not take that responsibility from him. Only his death could do that.
Thayne turned to Ataris. “Thank you, my friend. You and your pack saved many lives…” he said as he fought his emotions. “If you had not come, many more would have perished.”
He hobbled over to Ataris and was about to kneel in front of the alpha wolf but the pack leader stopped him. “Please. That is not necessary. I grieve with you, my friend. We both lost offspring on this day. My second born, Asher, travels with your boy to the afterlife.”
Dain interrupted. “They did not perish in vain. The Ghast are defeated and will not dare cross the river again.”
Ataris looked at Dain and then continued. “Well said, Son. They are…”
The young wolf ignored his father’s attempt to console the Draghone chief. “My brother gave his life on the Northern Shore defending his territory. Adolphus fell defending his village; they should be celebrated, not mourned.”
“Dain, that’s enough. We grieve in our own way, as do the people of Draghone…”
It took a moment for Dain’s words to register with Thayne. “What did you say? Asher died on the Northern Shore? Is that not what you told us?” he asked.
Events had transpired so quickly Ataris did not have the opportunity to explain to the chief the happenings of the past few days, let alone the tragedy of the morning. He had sent scouts to warn the village, but the Ghast had arrived first. When he finally entered the village, battle raged, and Thayne’s people were losing. It was a moment for fighting, not words, but the unspoken words sh
outed in Ataris’ mind… and his soul.
“You knew the Ghast were coming?” asked Thayne. “And gave no warning?”
Dain cut back in. “They were poaching on our shores. We ended one of them, but there were more.
“You!” shouted Draghone as he stood up. “You brought this destruction upon us!”
Ataris closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“We sent scouts, but it was too late,” argued Dain.
“You did nothing! You stirred the Ghast to anger, and then abandoned us like corgans to slaughter. You did this!” Thayne shouted as he pointed to the body of his boy lying on the wooden table.
The villagers gathered, circling the group of wolves. One by one they again picked up their weapons of war. Shouts rained from all around as the mob reacted to the revelation. Grief gave way to anger.
“For ages we have fought by your side. Protected the wolves… and this is how you repay us? I demand blood,” the chief thundered as he looked to his people and then to the wolves.
“Please, my friend. I was unaware they would attack your people first,” Ataris pleaded, but his voice was drowned out by the shouts of the barbarians.
“Ataris,” declared the chief as he pointed to the leader of the wolves. “You and yours betrayed our loyalty. You broke our sacred trust. As I have lost my eldest son, so I demand the life of your first born!”
“No!” shouted Magnus, but the roar of the village crowd drowned his cry.
Logic and reason vanished from Thayne’s enraged mind. Vengeful justice drove his actions.
The wolves began barking as they huddled together. The pack grew nervous and assumed defensive postures. They growled and bared their teeth.
Chaos returned. Once allies, now the humans gathered together, and the wolves closed their ranks.
“How dare you blame us?” shouted Dain. “We came to your aid. Many wolves perished with your people… defending your territory, your village, not our den!”
“Refuse my demand, and our alliance is at an end, Ataris. I swear I will spend the rest of my days hunting your kind until every barbarian wears the fur of a Shade Wolf!” said Chief Draghone.
Trail of Bones: A Young Adult Fantasy Novel (An Epic Fantasy Adventure For Any Family) Page 15
