The Wolf At War

by Terry Cloutier

  Meanwhile, the levy of more than a thousand strong continued to stream up the hill a quarter-mile ahead of me, so overwhelmed by killing and bloodlust that they still hadn’t realized what had happened. That changed the moment the vengeful Piths were in amongst them, cutting and hacking men down savagely. The Gander army that had seemed so unstoppable only moments before now turned in fear, running back the way they had come in a mindless panic. I could hear more than one voice taking up the call, “The king has fallen! Run for your lives! The king has fallen!”

  I started to move forward with a growl just as Jebido grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m not running, Jebido,” I grunted. Men on foot and horseback were streaming around and past us, racing to the safety of the bridge as shrieking Piths slaughtered men in droves. Behind me, Berwin, Niko, and the rest of my men who had survived the attack on the shield wall fingered their weapons nervously, waiting to see what I would do.

  Jebido put his hand on my shoulder. “The battle is lost, Hadrack,” he said. “Accept that and move on. Throwing your life away won’t change what happened here.” He smiled, looking old and tired. “There is no shame in running. The shame will be if you are too stupid and proud not to see that.”

  I hesitated, wobbling back and forth in indecision. Finally, I nodded. “We fall back across the river to the northern gatehouse.” I glared at Jebido. “And then we hold it! I’m not done with these bastards yet!”

  Jebido laughed as he patted my shoulder. “That’s the spirit, lad.”

  My men and I formed a shield wall twenty feet in front of the southern gatehouse entrance, allowing the remnants of our panic-stricken army to swarm around both sides. More men-at-arms bolstered us when they saw what we were doing until we numbered close to a hundred bone-weary, determined men. Baine and his archers remained on the battlements, shooting at any Pith that came close, though the savage warriors seemed more than content now to stay clear and hack apart any of our forces too far away to reach us in time. Finally, the flow of panicked Ganders was reduced to a trickle, and I had my men retreat until we were safely back inside the confines of the gatehouse. I looked up to where the giant portcullis once hung, wishing we could lower it now, but the Piths had destroyed it when they had torn apart the gates.

  The Piths began to mass out of bowshot range. I guessed there were easily two thousand of the cheering warriors as I braced for the inevitable charge. But long minutes went by, and still that charge did not come. I glanced behind me at the confusion of men and horses pushing and shoving at each other in panic as they tried to flee across the bridge. Soon my shield wall could start to make a cautious retreat, but that time hadn’t come yet. I prayed the Piths would stay their charge a few minutes longer.

  “What are the bastards waiting for?” I heard someone mumble.

  I was beginning to wonder the same thing until I heard the Piths start to chant a name, and then I understood. Lorgen Three-Fingers. I felt my mouth go dry as four men on horseback appeared through the Piths’ ranks and trotted toward us. The lead rider trailed the reins of a black pony behind him, and on that pony rode a naked man, his hands and feet tied with rope. The naked man wore a crown of thorns and rode backward, facing the pony’s ass. It was Tyden. I cursed under my breath as men around me muttered angrily.

  “Hadrack?” Baine shouted down at me from one of the murder holes in the ceiling. I glanced up. “Should I drop the bastards?”

  I shook my head. “No, let’s hear what they have to say first.”

  The riders paused forty feet away. “Is there a cornered wolf cowering inside there?” The man who had spoken was big, wearing a fur-lined cloak over blood-splattered mail. His hair was black with streaks of grey throughout, and it hung down well past his shoulders. His beard was black as well, with thick patches of white on either side of his chin. The Pith held the reins of Tyden’s pony in his left hand, which I saw was missing the last two fingers. I was looking at Lorgen Three-Fingers.

  The warrior chieftain urged his horse forward another ten feet, dragging the smaller animal along and looking unconcerned about our archers on the battlements. Dusk was beginning to set in, and Lorgen squinted as he peered into the gloom of the gatehouse. “I say again, is there a wolf hiding in amongst all those terrified sheep?”

  I lowered my shield and sheathed Wolf’s Head, then pushed my men aside as I strode forward into the waning sunlight. “What do you want, Pith?” I said.

  Lorgen Three-Fingers stared at me with hard eyes. “So, you would be the whelp that I’ve heard so much about.”

  I glanced at the men waiting behind the Pith. One was Saldor, and he nodded to me in greeting, his face etched in stone. The other was Nedo, looking pale and unwell, though his eyes burned pure hatred at me. “Have you come here to crawl on your knees and surrender?” I asked Lorgen in a steady voice.

  The Pith chieftain stared at me in astonishment for a moment, and then he surprised me by slapping his leg and laughing. “For a man who likes to cut off balls, you certainly have a weighty pair of your own.”

  I shrugged. “I’m only going to make the offer once, Amenti, so stop wasting my time.”

  Lorgen Three-Fingers’ smile fell away. He sighed, picking at his nose as he regarded me. “You have lost, whelp.” He gestured behind him at Tyden. “We have your runt of a king and have crushed your pathetic army. Surrender now, and I might be merciful with some of your men.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Mercy from a Pith is like love from a whore. Neither one exists.”

  Lorgen Three-Fingers’ eyes narrowed. “I can destroy you right now if I choose.”

  I spread my arms, remembering years ago when Einhard stood where I was now with an overwhelming army of Ganders surrounding him. We had faced impossible odds on that day too, but had managed to survive. “You can try,” I said. “But it won’t be easy, and many of your brothers will die in the attempt.”

  Lorgen brushed something off his cloak, looking unconcerned. “What if I say no more blood needs to be spilled this day and that both sides can go away happy?”

  “Go on,” I said, not believing him for a moment.

  Lorgen leaned forward. “I propose a deal. I will return your king to you, and your men can go in peace.”

  I grinned before he could say anything else. “I accept your terms.”

  Lorgen chuckled, raising a finger and waggling it back and forth. “You are much too quick, whelp, as I have no doubt every woman who has ever bedded you can attest.” He lifted his head, looking up at the archers on the battlements. “Listen to me, Gandermen,” he shouted. “No more of you need to die here today. I will give you back your king and let you go.” Lorgen pointed at me. “In exchange for him!”

  “Hadrack!” I heard Jebido shout from behind me. “Don’t do it!”

  Lorgen grinned. “So, what do you say? Your worthless life for that of your king and all these men. There has never been a fairer bargain than that.”

  I paused as I glanced at Nedo. The boy was leaning forward eagerly, licking his lips as he waited for my answer. I could see an almost feral madness swirling in his eyes, and I had to stop myself from shuddering as I focused back on Lorgen. “If I agree,” I said as more shouts of objection arose from my men. I turned and glared behind me, silencing most of the voices, though I could hear both Baine and Jebido still protesting. “If I agree to your deal,” I repeated. “How do I know you will honor it?”

  Lorgen shrugged. “All life is a game, whelp.” He grinned again. “Care to play?”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Tyden suddenly called out, turning awkwardly to look at me. “You hear me, Lord Hadrack. Shove your sword up this bastard's ass and make him eat his own shit off of it.”

  “Shut your mouth, you!” Nedo shouted, drawing his blade and slapping the flat end of it across Tyden’s back. The king cried out as red welts instantly appeared on his flesh, while behind me, I could feel my men tensing, getting ready to ch
arge.

  I turned and raised a hand. “Stay where you are,” I ordered. I glared at my men until they reluctantly relaxed, then faced Lorgen Three-Fingers again. “I will need time to consider it,” I said.

  “Very well,” Lorgen said, amusement on his face. “I’m hungry anyway, and it’s getting dark.” He pulled his horse around, then paused to look back at me. “You have until tomorrow morning to accept my generous offer, whelp. Come to me on your hands and knees when the sun clears the trees. If you do that, then I will free your king.” He pointed at me in warning. “But if you choose to flee during the night like a coward instead, then I will flay the skin from your runt king and wear it for a hat as I hunt every one of you down like the dogs that you are.”

  Lorgen Three-Fingers rode off then, hauling the tiny pony and naked king behind him as he headed for his camp in the eastern fields. The Pith warriors roared as they parted for their leader, many of them spitting on the humiliated king and slapping his bare skin with their open palms. I watched the Piths go, then turned and headed back to my men. Jebido and Baine flanked me as soon as I entered the gatehouse.

  “You can’t go through with this,” Jebido said before I could even open my mouth. I could see the worry lying heavy on his face. “I won’t let you.”

  I gave him a tired smile. “And how exactly are you going to stop me?” I asked.

  “Do you have any idea what those bastards will do to you?” Jebido demanded.

  I grimaced. “Of course I do. But we need to get Tyden back. If this is the only way to do that, then I have to consider it.”

  “He’s just one man, Hadrack,” Baine said. “There will be other kings.”

  I shook my head, realizing that they didn’t understand yet. “Don’t you two see what will happen if Tyden dies?” My friends just looked at me with blank expressions. I sighed. “Without him, someone else will have a clear path to the throne again.”

  Jebido groaned. “Pernissy,” he said, spitting the name out like rotten meat. “The sniveling bastard.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “The man may have lost his lands and title, but he still has royal blood in his veins. With Son Oriell backing him, it’s guaranteed Pernissy would succeed Tyden if he dies. There’s no way I’m going to allow that to happen, even if the price is my life.” I put my arms around both my friends’ shoulders as I guided them across the bridge. “Don’t look so glum. I’m not dead yet, and we still have all night to come up with a better plan.”

  We returned to our camp on the northern side of the river, using whatever we could find to blockade the gatehouse doors in case Lorgen Three-Fingers tried to attack us during the night. Many of the senior lords had fallen in the battle, and strangely enough, the remaining four still alive were looking to me for leadership as we met in the king’s tent. The consensus among those lords was that we should flee, leaving the Piths with nothing but frustration to eat in the morning when they saw us gone. I let the lords speak their piece without saying anything, each man advocating for flight before I finally stood.

  I began to pace as I thought, knowing that without the support of the men around me, whatever chance there might be to get Tyden back alive, slim as it was, would be gone.

  “You don’t agree with us, Lord Hadrack?”

  I turned. The man who had spoken was Lord Porten’s son, Fitzery, now Lord Fitzery after his father's death. “It makes sense to leave under cover of darkness,” I said. “We are vastly outnumbered, and if Lorgen lied about letting us go, then everyone will be slaughtered in the morning.” I shrugged. “But if we leave, then what?”

  “Then we go home,” Lord Cambil answered. He was short and bald, with a nervous habit of licking his lips after every sentence he spoke.

  “To do what?” I asked, one eyebrow raised. “Hide in our castles while the Piths ravage our lands? Is that what you suggest?” Lord Cambil looked at his hands, not meeting my eyes. I glanced at Jebido, who I’d asked to assess the strength of our battered army. “How many men do we have left?”

  “Three hundred horse,” Jebido responded. “A hundred and fifty archers, and perhaps six hundred foot soldiers.”

  “And the wounded?” I asked.

  “Too many to count,” Jebido stated flatly.

  I looked around at the lords. “So, what happens to those men if we leave? We won’t be able to move fast with that many wounded, which means Lorgen will catch up to us eventually.”

  “Then we leave the wounded behind.” This from Lord Vestry, a timid man of sixty or so who was always quick to side with the majority opinion.

  I frowned. “That’s not an option,” I said, not hiding my disgust.

  Lord Fitzery turned to Jebido. “How many of those foot soldiers that you mentioned are from the levy?” he asked.

  Jebido grimaced. “Almost three-quarters, lord,” he said. “And that number will probably be halved by morning unless we watch them closely.”

  Many of the lords groaned at Jebido’s words as I held up my hands. “I understand how difficult a decision this is for all of you. But we can’t just skulk away from here like beaten dogs while Tyden still lives. We have all night to come up with a plan to get him back. All I’m asking is that you keep your men here until the morning and help me think of something.”

  “And then what?” Lord Cambil asked as he licked his lips. “If we fail to come up with this plan, are you really going to sacrifice yourself to that bastard to save the king?”

  “If I have to,” I said firmly. “But I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

  Lord Fitzery came to me, offering his hand. “You are a brave and dedicated man, Lord Hadrack,” he said as we locked forearms. “I will stay the night and will spend it praying to The Mother for inspiration.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully as, one by one, the other lords pledged their support. Now all I needed to do was find a way to rescue the king from close to two thousand savage Pith warriors before the sun rose—warriors who would undoubtedly be on guard for just such a ploy.

  Two hours later, I sat along the riverbank half a mile east of the bridge, staring across the White Rock at the sprawling Pith camp. I could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music drifting over the water, carried along by a steady breeze. A quarter moon hung high in the sky, brushing the roiling water beneath me with sparkling threads of white and silver as the river foamed over hidden rocks. I threw a pebble into the depths as I glanced to the southwest toward a thick stand of trees that blocked my view of the gatehouse on the southern bank. I didn’t need to see it to know what was waiting for us there. Lorgen Three-Fingers was no fool, and he had posted a strong force of Piths to guard the bridge in case we tried to cross it during the night.

  I heard footsteps behind me but didn’t bother to turn around as I threw another rock into the river. I knew who it was going to be.

  “So,” Jebido said as he crouched down beside me. Both his knees cracked loudly, and he groaned as he lowered himself to the ground. “By that look on your face, I would guess you haven’t come up with a plan yet.”

  I shook my head and threw another rock. “It’s impossible,” I grunted. I gestured toward the gatehouse beyond the trees. “Those bastards over there will know the moment we try to move on them.”

  I had sent scouts east to Victory Pass in hopes that it had been left unguarded, but the Piths were taking no chances and had men blocking it, so going around was not an option.

  Jebido tossed a smooth stone in the air, caught it, and then flicked it down into the churning river. “What about rafts? We could float men across.”

  “Across that?” I said, pointing at the rapids. “We’ll never make it. We’d just get swept downriver.”

  “It’s better than swimming,” Jebido grunted. “The Mother knows there’s no other way across this damn thing other than the bridge.”

  I thought about the messenger from Gasterny, Bona, who had somehow managed to swim the White Rock. It seemed incredible to imagine, yet the
man had done it somehow—though the river wasn’t nearly as wild to the east where he had crossed. But he had been just one man, and I knew I would need hundreds, all of them wearing heavy armor and carrying weapons. It would be impossible. I shook the notion aside as movement across the river caught my eye. Shadowy figures were flitting in and out of the moonlight along the forest that bordered the Pith campsite. I could hear the faint ringing of axe heads striking tree trunks, then shouts as men called loudly back and forth to each other.

  “What are those bastards up to now?” Jebido wondered out loud.

  We stood together, trying to make out what the Piths were doing until a weak flame appeared, quickly gaining in strength as men fed wood to a massive bonfire. The growing light revealed warriors wielding axes in the trees, along with even more of the Piths digging in the field. Suddenly I understood their purpose and I started to laugh.

  Jebido looked at me as though my mind had suddenly fled. “What’s so funny?”

  I grinned at him. “The Master might have just shown me the way, my friend.”

  12: The Rescue

  The messenger, Bona, had managed to survive the battle, and he stood naked and shivering on the rocks near the raging river. We had moved much further east from where Jebido and I had sat an hour ago, using the thick cover of the trees across the water to shield us from the Pith camp. The place that I had selected twisted north in a sharp bend for fifty feet, then curled to the east again. It was a good spot that would help hide us from the Piths' eyes at the bridge. Lorgen Three-Fingers had made a mistake by failing to post men to watch the White Rock here, clearly confident that we were beaten and that there was no way to cross other than the bridge. I intended to make him pay for that mistake.