As solo hunters, they are dangerous beyond measure. As a pack, they are nearly invincible. Possessing high intelligence and such attributes, they are nature’s perfect killing machines. And she is certainly one of the elite. Talbot can’t help but to admire her.
“Pardon Sai, I do believe that expediency is a must. You ken?” Admonishes Gilbert, Talbot’s fellow.
Talbot looks at him and nods. He had been mesmerized with her. But Herod’s bidding is not something to take lightly. “Ai, Gilbert. You speak the truth. Let’s load up the beast and prepare it for Herod-Sai.”
They both painstakingly pick her up, almost needing an extra hand. Struggling, they manage to move her onto the makeshift sled they had fabricated out of coil, runner boards and padding. It will hold for the relatively short distance.
Once she is on the sled, Gilbert removes her dart from her and ponders for a moment. “Talbot, weren’t you supposed to put two darts in her? I found only one.”
Talbot nods. “Ai. I am a crack shot. I know well I put two shots in her.” He looks around and finds the dart. “Ai, here it is.”
Gilbert looks dubious. “She is quite large. If she wakes prematurely, it could not be good for us. You ken?”
“She is fine. Asleep as you see.”
“Mayhaps you should put one more in her, to be sure.”
Talbot shakes his head. “No. Herod made it clear. No more than two darts in her. Anything more and we risk killing her. If we don’t get her to Herod intact, you know full well there will be hell to pay. She will be bound anyway. Tie her up.”
Gilbert nods his head. “Ai, you are right.”
They bound Cammilia’s legs, careful not to make it too tight to cut off her circulation and then make their way to the rendezvous point. The last few kilometers of the trip are an arduous one. They have to go uphill to the top of a rocky plateau, which has little vegetation on the top. A sparse and spindly Sycamore tree serves as Sentry atop the plateau, a few short yards from the nearly thousand-foot, amost vertical drop. Several of Talbot’s men are already there waiting for him.
A large, dilapidated barn sits at the top of the plateau. The barn is largely deserted except for several bales of hay, some saddles, pitchforks, hoes, branding irons and other supplies that a metal smith would find handy.
The barn itself is quite eroded, the red paint that had once been vibrant is nearly peeled away as is the metal roof. Several pieces of it have already fallen through the rafters and landed inside the barn. It will serve their purpose. And most importantly, they have a great vantage point, able to see anyone coming on a cloudless day within a twenty mile radius. And yet, no one can see in. It is perfect.
Bored and restless from inactivity, the men quickly congregate around Talbot’s party once they stop at the barn. They are all mesmerized by her beauty and linger over her. Talbot speaks up. “All right lads. We’ve all seen wolves before. Gilbert, you and a couple other lads, take the wolf inside the barn. Six of you will stay here to make sure the beast remains.’’
“That sounds like overkill to me,” protests Swinton, a young roughshod from Terra-Gaulia.”
Talbot looks at him in irritation. “Oh, mayhaps you would know better than Herod himself I ken. Perhaps we should permit you to lead us. I would ken that Herod would be fine with arrangement.” He says sarcastically. Several men in the group snicker.
He looks wounded and seems ready to retort but thinks better of it. He nods in deference. “Ai. Cry pardon, I do. I would not deign to disagree with Herod.”
Talbot nods. “Well, then let us take her into the barn. I will take the remainder of the men and do a perimeter search to ensure no one sneaks up on us. Gilbert will be in charge of the rest of you.’’ He looks at Gilbert with a deadpan grimace. “Gilbert, if the beast should happen to wake prematurely, take a gun and knock her out once. Only one. Do you ken? Anymore sedatives in her system and her heart could give out.”
Gilbert nods. “Ai. Set watch and warrant it so. It will be done.” Talbot hands him the long rifle and two tranquilizer darts.
“Why the extra dart?” asks Gilbert.
“In case you miss with the first one.”
“How could I miss if I am firing from point blank? And she is bound to boot.”
Talbot moves in until he is inches from Gilbert, hoping to impart the gravity of the situation. “Because when you deal with Herod, you do not leave anything to chance. You ken?”
Gilbert nods. “Ai. Set watch and warrant it so. I ken.”
Talbot takes his men and leaves, with Gilbert in charge of Cammilia. Gilbert knows full well the gravity of the situation but still considers it somewhat insulting to be in charge of the babysitting brigade. One man could easily watch a subdued wolf in restraints, no matter how formidable she might be. What the hell could possibly go wrong after all?
Gilbert looks at the rest of the men. He quickly decides who to leave in charge. As for him? Well, he is due for a pixy smoke. “Jonah, you and Bellham stay here with Cammilia. If you see her start to stir, here.” He hands him the long rifle and one dart. “Shoot her one. And only one. You ken?”
“I know what one means,” replies Jonah in irritation. “And what will you be doing?”
“Securing the area.” He says as he inches is face closer to him, as if daring him to disagree.
Jonah prudently backs down. “Ai.” He responds.
Truth be told, Gilbert is bored and he reflects that most of the action to be sustained on this mission has already been had. Once outside, he extracts his tin can filled with pixie sticks and lights one up.
“Smells like a good batch,” says Taichert, implying that Gilbert should offer one.
Gilbert takes the hint. He lights up another one and hands it to him. “Ai. It is. The finest stock around. There are some perks to working for Herod-Sai.”
“So, why all these precautions for this beast? Is she mythical?” asks Taichert jokingly.
Gilbert nods with grave seriousness. “Ai. Some would say. Hard to separate fact from fiction, so it is. The beast is rumored to have saved the boy from a likely death. They are inseparable, their bond unbreakable except in death. Apparently, she is no ordinary wolf. She is the most intelligent of any of her breed.”
Taichert. “Ai. But even so, what can she do?”
Gilbert nods. “Ai. What can she do? Anything on her part to no avail. You ken?”
“Ai, so I do.”
Jonah and Bellham take their task serious for the first couple of hours, but inactivity leads to restlessness. “I’m going to see what I can lookee for in this barn. You ken?” asks Bellham.
“Ai,” says Jonah. “Have at it.”
Cammilia feigns sleep. The diverted attention of the men is all the time she needs to snap through the rope on her legs. Before the men turn around, she lays her head back on the ground. Jonah thinks he catches the sight of her in his peripheral, but he can’t be sure. He approaches and confirms he is wrong. She is fast asleep.
Bellham searches through the barn looking for anything of value or interest. He has a small methane lamp, but the inner recess of the barn is quite dark. A set of harrier tools hangs on a large beam and he examines it and then turns around, bumping against a small wooden bench. He cusses in surprise and pain from hitting his shin and knocks the bench over. As he puts it back up, he notices something tied under the bench with tape. It’s a small can. He opens it up and something is wrapped in gauze.
As he extracts it, a big shit-eating-grin erupts on his face. It is pixy weed. He smells it. It is still fresh, at least somewhat. God knows how long it has been stashed here. He goes back down the stairs to Jonah, still smiling.
“Don’t tell me you found something of interest up there,” says Jonah.
“Ai. Some unexpected treasure and it’s still good,” replies Bellham.
Jonah is curious. “Praytell, Sai. What?”
Bellham extracts the find and presents it to Jonah. “This.”
Jo
nah takes it and looks at it dubiously. “Can’t still be good though. Can it?”
“Take a whiff and see for yourself,” replies Bellham.
Jonah smells it and confirms. It is good. “Ai. A good smoke to be had once the business is finished. Too bad that full faculties are-”
Bellham cuts him off. “This babysitting job is nothing. You can sit bored there yourself, but as for me, I’m gonna have me a little smoke for now. If you wish to join me, then surely do so.”
“Talbot will have our arses on a plate,” retorts Jonah.
“One little bud will do nothing, so it won’t.”
Jonah seems to consider it. “Ai. Suppose one bud won’t do no harm.”
Bellham nods. “Ai. Just one little roll. Nothing more. And none will be the wiser, Sai.”
Jonah and Bellham light up the first roll. As they were hoping, it is well-preserved and still fresh. They soon become pleasantly inebriated with the intoxicating smokes. One roll turns into two then three. They unconsciously divert their attention from Cammilia and soon have their backs to her. She doesn’t hesitate in chewing through her remaining restraints and freeing herself. She is still groggy from the tranquilizer. Luckily, the first dart had barely penetrated her and very little of the drug penetrated her.
Still a bit wobbly and disoriented, she quietly walks off into the shadows and waits for her prey.
Jonah clasps Bellham on the back, laughing hysterically as he does so. The pixie has made them as giddy as enamored pube girls. “Herod would certainly have your hide if he were ever privy to that,” remarks Jonah.
“Ai,” replied Bellham. “Did you hear something?”
“I certainly hope it’s not our wolf,” says Jonah. They both erupt in laughter. They had not been aware they had turned their backs on her. A sense of duty and the wrath of Herod turns them back to her. As they turn back, the smiles that had erupted on their faces is replaced by looks of consternation.
They both look at each other with dawning perplexity. How the hell did this happen? Their hearts begin to trip-hammer in their chest. They know they should have stopped at one or not bothered to smoke it at all.
Jonah looks at Bellham accusingly. “Where is she?” He asks pleadingly as if Bellham can just cause her to materialize.
“If she escapes, it will be your head on the chopping block,” cries Jonah.
“Let’s just find her,” yells Bellham. “Get the gun.”
Jonah doesn’t need a second invitation. He walks off to get the gun. As he walks to the gun, his peripheral catches a glimpse of a large, shadowy figure. She moves silently and too quickly. Almost preternaturally so.
Jonah can feel his heart nearly explode inside his chest. He is almost to the gun, but before he can make it, he is slammed against a post with such force that it breaks upon impact. He hears and feels something inside him give as well. He knows that his back is broken. The shock has precluded the excruciating pain that will follow.
With all his strength, he tries to fight off the massive beast, but it is like a small ship trying to fight off a tidal wave. Cammilia chomps down on his shoulder, severing the rotator cuff from his arm. Blood gushes out uncontrollably. He screams in revulsion and horror as his bones pulverize to fragments.
With his free hand, Jonah tries to fight off the beast. As he throws a punch, she seizes his hand and rips it from his socket, eliciting more hellish cries of anguish. The blood gushes from several severed arteries and crimson stains her white coat.
Finally relieving herself of the vestiges of grogginess, she scampers off to hunt the other man.
Bellham hears the agonizing screams of Jonah and hurries off to retrieve a weapon. He can’t risk going for the rifle, though it would be his first choice. He sees the hanging rack of farm tools and tries to reach it, but she is too fast. She closes the distance on him in mere seconds.
Bellham’s foot is swept out from him and he lands headfirst on to the gravel floor. Blood seeps from a small laceration on his forehead, but those are the least of his problems. Cammilia has bitten clean through his shin, severing it from his foot. He cries in agony and extracts a butterfly knife from his pocket and tries to bring it down on the beast. But she lunges first for his neck, ripping open his larynx and severing his jugular. Blood gushes out like a small fountain and with it, his life.
Though it is midday, the barn is still dark, especially in the recesses. Several holes in the eroded roof shine down beams of light into the barn, illuminating small sections of the barn and accentuating the dark areas, making it harder for the men to adjust to the darkness. Cammilia can see quite well. After her recent kill, she scampers off.
Gilbert and Taichert are enjoying their smokes when their festivities take a screeching halt. They hear an ear-piercing, gut-wrenching wale that sounds almost effeminate. For a second, they almost laugh, but a sense of urgency brings them out of their stupor, and they look at each other desperately.
Gilbert resumes his command. “Taichert, you follow me inside!” Gilbert motions to another of the men, Abbott. “Abbott!” He yells. “You follow us inside the barn and we will rally up this scamp beast. If we have to put her down, then so be it.’’
Abbott nods. “Ai.” He says uneasily.
Jax comes over to join them, but Gilbert motions him off. “Jax, you stay back in case she comes out. If she does come out and you have to kill her, then do it!”
“Ai.” He says. An ice cold chill runs down his back. Jax had been in a few gunfights before, but he never had to deal with a beast like this. He had a long rifle but preferred the close quarters fighting with the hand cannons.
They go to the barn, but before they can reach it, another blood-curdling scream issues from it. Taichert is visibly shaking, but Gilbert has managed to hold his composure up to this point. It seems that a plethora of ice cubes have lodged inside his spine. He is dangerously close to wetting himself. “Let’s go lads. Be on your lookout. She is swift and deadly to be sure. Just shoot at anything that moves.”
The trio goes to the door of the barn. Gilbert motions to Taichert to proceed. They proceed to go in, but the barn door busts down in a hale of splinters and broken boards. The barn door had been eroded surely, but the amount of raw strength needed to break it down is monstrous. It catches them all off guard.
Cammilia lands on top of Gilbert. She leaps off the door, throwing her considerable weight on to him. He is unable to move and is sure that several ribs are broken. He breathes in shallow breaths.
Taichert is the most prepared for the contingency. He reaches for his gun, but his hand is seized by Cammilia, who severs it from his arm in one quick move. He screams in revulsion, unable to feel the agonizing pain he knows will come any second. Without a weapon, he runs off, but to little avail. Cammilia seizes him by the waist and chomps down with the force of a relentless vise-grip and spins him around.
Abbott emerges from his incredulous stupor. He fumbles for his weapon and fires it haphazardly, without thought to what he is aiming. The wild shot hits Taichert in the kneecap, obliterating it. Being throttled by Cammilia, he is barely aware of it. In one violent shake of her head, Cammilia rips open a chunk of Taichert, severing several arteries in his side. He falls to the ground and is silent.
Abbot backs up and fires off a shot, which goes wild. He tries to fire off another shot, but his gun jams. It is all the time that Cammilia needs to close the distance. With the power of a bull, she smashes into him headfirst and he is knocked back on the ground. He tries to breathe but is unable to with the wind knocked out of him.
Cammilia lands on top of him and seizes his neck in her jaws and rips out his throat. Crimson spurts uncontrollably, further staining her coat.
Jax looks on, aware that he is no crack shot with the long rifle. He did not believe that he would be the last man standing with her. Against all odds, she has managed to kill every man watching her, except him. Unable to get a clear shot on her, he restrains from taking a shot for fear of hitting
one of the men. He realizes now that was a crucial mistake.
He unslings his long rifle and takes aim at her. For a brief moment, she seems to size him up and looks at him. Perhaps she is contemplating her strategy. Intelligence radiates from those mesmerizing blue eyes and it begins to unhinge him.
Chapter 46: Chaos at the Barn
Felinius’ orders are relatively vague. He is to confirm that Herod’s mission is completed. He purposely avoids going to the gravesite of the boy first. The manner in which he is to be killed does not sit right with him. A child to be buried alive is beyond monstrous. But what can he do? What is set in motion cannot be undone.
Perhaps Herod is right. Glory is to be found in the end. When he has won back his title as a knight, he will be heir to a magnanimous empire that once shunned him. If he is to usurp the Brethren, this is the clearest path. There is no other way. He will just have to find a way to live with such abominations for the glory in the end. Can he do it though?
This churning ambivalence plays havoc inside his mind when several loud gunshots bring him out of his contemplation. What the hell was that? Herod was clear in his orders. There is to be quiet. Perhaps the men are smoking pixie and throwing caution to the wind, bored from babysitting. Still, it gives him pause.
He pushes his stallion, Misty on harder, forcing her to exert herself nearly to her breaking point. He knows he does so at the risk of his own peril, but urgency calls him on. Something is wrong.
He hears several men behind him. They yell out, clearly surprised themselves at the unexpected commotion. Soon, he begins to see a few other riders who are as equally alarmed. They race up to the top of the plateau.
Cammilia is sizing up Jax. She takes off at a breakneck speed straight for him. He takes careful aim and puts his hand on the trigger. Just as he pulls it, she changes directions erratically. The shot misses. He cocks the hammer and takes aim again. She zigzags erratically, making it hard for him to line up a shot. He fires but misses. He begins to fire several more shots, without taking aim, hoping for a lucky shot. None is afforded him.
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