“Goodbye, my loves!”
Corsair and Ragnar both waved back to their mother, ignoring the chuckles of the few soldiers up ahead. A part of the younger Sedrid felt as though he did not belong among the ranks of these hardened lupines, their steeds grunting and growling to themselves. Quickpaw grew uneasy, shifting from paw to paw and glancing left and right.
“Easy, easy. We’re okay. Everyone is friendly here.”
He grumbled, unsure of his advice, before looking left. His gaze froze over the sight before him, peering around Harangoth to catch a glimpse. His purple pupils bloomed and he almost gasped in awe.
“What’s wrong?” Corsair asked.
He looked left.
A white wolf sat on his steed, countless bags and sacks strapped on his back filled to the brim with items Corsair could not discern. A white braided tail draped over one side of the saddle, a decoration that caught his attention immediately. He knew, however, that the lupine’s tail was not the point of interest for Quickpaw. Lowering his gaze, he saw the ictharr beneath the wolf, a sleek creature that held itself with an elegant poise. Bags dangled from hooks on either side of the saddle, carrying hefty luggage as its rider did. Its fur was white, with hundreds of black splotches and one jagged dark patch over the right eye. Its tail was braided in the same way as the rider’s and was flicking back and forth. Its orange eyes stared forwards, an expression much like Harangoth’s on its face.
Corsair laughed.
“In love, huh?”
Quickpaw demonstrated the intensity of his feelings by darting back out of the formation, almost throwing Corsair from his saddle.
“Whoa!”
“Corsair, what’s wrong?” Ragnar asked.
“I don’t know – hey, stop!”
Quickpaw rapidly rounded the rear of Harangoth and arrived beside the black-spotted beast. He drew alongside the creature and gave a playful yap, mouth hanging open and tongue flopping out from one side. The rider’s head shot to the left, eyes focused on Corsair, his steed showing surprise at Quickpaw’s sudden greeting.
“Uh.”
“Sorry, sorry! He’s a bit excited to be here, uh…”
To his surprise, the serious attitude of the black-spotted ictharr somewhat eroded away. There were no playful yaps offered in response but it tilted its head, amused at Quickpaw’s friendly approach. It was a stark contrast to the usual growl he received from ictharrs that weren’t as sociable as first thought.
“Wow. Corsair Sedrid, right? The Winter Baron’s son?” the white wolf said.
“Yeah, I’m him. Look, I’m sorry about this. I’ll move…”
“No, Sir, honestly it’s fine. Arwenin gets excited easily, too. She’s just feeling a bit stroppy today.”
Arwenin grumbled, looking down at the snowy ground.
“See, Sir? This is what happens when you don’t let your ictharr sleep in.”
“You don’t have to call me that, you know.”
The white wolf frowned.
“Oh, you sure? I just don’t want to be disrespectful to you. I mean, you’re a prince!”
“No, it’s fine. Just Corsair.”
“Not even ‘fighter’?”
Anxious, he didn’t detect the jovial tone.
“I mean, if you want.”
“I’m joking, I’m joking. I wouldn’t want to annoy you.”
He offered a paw forward.
“The name’s Axel. Army apothecary.”
Corsair hesitated, taken aback by the sudden greeting.
“You’re uh… supposed to shake it, you know.”
“Y-yeah, right.”
Corsair shook Axel’s paw.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“Is your brother here?”
Axel looked to his right to see the older Sedrid waving, Harangoth silently greeting Arwenin. She mimicked his serious expression, holding her head up high and nodding to him.
“Hello,” Ragnar said.
“Oh, u-uh, hi,” Axel said, flustered. “Wow… never thought I’d be beside the jousting champion and prince of the clan himself.”
Ragnar chuckled.
“I’m flattered.”
“You’re flattered? I’m flattered. I can barely speak!”
Corsair chuckled. Ragnar smiled and looked back towards the front, distracted from the conversation.
“So… what’s his name?” Axel asked, pointing to Quickpaw.
“Oh, he’s Quickpaw.”
“Nice. He seems like a pretty jolly ictharr.”
“He has ups and down. Right now he’s in the middle of an ‘up’, as you can probably tell.”
“It’s normal. Arwie’s guilty of getting excited over a bundle of rope loads of times. Favourite chew toy.”
She whimpered, wincing in embarrassment and shooting Axel a scowl. Quickpaw teased her with a yap, which received a snarl in response.
“Easy, Arwie. Who’s the bruiser you have, Ragnar?”
“Harangoth.”
Axel whistled.
“Wow. You must be feeding him bone and gristle to get him that big.”
“He came from a good breeder. He’s friendly – I know he doesn’t look it that much.”
“He’d rip me in two, by the looks of it.”
Axel opened his mouth to continue the conversation but was interrupted by the sight of the front ranks padding forwards, following Alpha McVarn’s ictharr at a steady walking pace. The crowd began to shift, waving goodbye to the many wolves that came to bid them farewell.
“Well, looks like it’s time to go. Come on, Arwie.”
Still sulking, Arwenin rolled her eyes and began to follow the crowd. Quickpaw looked up at his rider, giving a growl as if to ask for his approval to proceed. He was eager to follow his new friend.
That same feeling came back to Corsair – that momentary defiance he felt the night before. The temptation to abandon the Krosguard and stay at home was overwhelming, burning inside of him, causing him to look back towards the saddened smile of his mother.
“Corsair?” Ragnar said.
Then the moment was gone.
“Huh?”
“The crowd’s going.”
Quickpaw whimpered again, gazing after Arwenin. Shaking himself from his doldrums, Corsair snapped at the reins.
“Hyah!”
Without hesitation, Quickpaw shot after the crowd. Harangoth followed him rather more slowly. Corsair waved goodbye to his mother, making eye contact with her for one last time before the stone arch of the gate blocked his vision and he was forced to look forward.
Before him lay a lone trail in the snow, the group of Krosguard hopefuls padding along it while murmuring to one another. He could see woods further along the path they were following, several hundred metres away, and knew it would be at least a few minutes before they trudged underneath its canopy.
He caught up to Axel, drawing beside him.
“For a moment I thought you changed your mind. Glad to see we still have you with us.”
“Just saying bye to Mum,” Corsair said as Ragnar joined them.
Quickpaw overtook Arwenin by a few steps, putting himself in her vision, but she grumbled and looked away.
“Come on, give her some space,” Corsair said. “She’s not in the mood.”
Giving a disgruntled growl of agreement, Quickpaw retreated a few steps before maintaining a steady trudging speed, hanging his head and grumbling to himself.
“She’ll be brighter tomorrow,” Axel said. “I’ll find her a chew toy tonight and then she won’t be so grumpy.”
They rode on in silence for a minute. Corsair looked over his shoulder and watched as Grand Wolf Plains shrank with every step, knowing that he was putting distance between himself and home.
We’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.
“We’re not annoying you by riding beside you, are we?” Ragnar asked.
“You kidding? I’m riding alongside Ragnar and Corsair, both heirs to the Winter Baron’s he
lm and top sports fighters. I am the furthest from annoyed right now.”
“Quickpaw kind of imposed,” Corsair said.
“Doesn’t bother me. He was just being friendly. Besides, I’m not going to be bored for the whole trip now, am I?”
The two Sedrids nodded.
“So… what’s the reason for your sudden change from tournaments?”
The true reason behind the sudden change of setting for the brothers was eager to throw itself out of Corsair’s mouth but he restrained it and put another excuse in its place.
“Needed a change of pace. Bit nervous, though.”
“So you chose war?” Axel frowned.
Corsair stammered. Ragnar swooped in.
“We’re the Winter Baron’s sons. We have a duty.”
“Suppose you’re not wrong. I don’t know what it’s like to be a prince, right?”
Corsair saw Ragnar smile at him from behind Axel, a way of trying to calm the younger wolf down. Corsair smiled back, looking away.
“God, sometimes I wish we lived somewhere warmer,” Axel said, pulling his clothes tighter around him.
“I like the cold,” Corsair said.
“Same here,” Ragnar said.
“You two do?”
“Well, not all of it, but it’s nice.”
“Nothing can beat some warm sun. I went to the Land of the Sun and Moon once. Once you feel the sun on your fur you never want to go back. Isn’t that right, Arwie?”
A grumble.
“Right. Forgot you were in a mood today.”
Axel shook his head and looked at Corsair.
“One day these guys love you to death. Other days they act like they couldn’t care less. Unless you have food.”
“I was about to say that.”
“Does Quickpaw love eating meat?”
“Well, ictharrs are carnivores,” Ragnar laughed. “It’d be weird if he didn’t, right?”
Axel faltered but composed himself.
“R-right, yeah, that makes sense. I just meant like what kind?”
“He enjoys maug the most.”
“Arwie is exactly the same. And she gets really sleepy afterwards.”
“So does Quickpaw,” Corsair said.
Axel chuckled, turning to face Ragnar.
“Let me guess with Harangoth. Maug meat? Sleepy afterwards?”
“To the letter,” Ragnar said.
He laughed.
“Was Arwie secretly a triplet or something?”
The trio chuckled. Corsair appreciated Axel’s laid-back attitude. It was pleasant to have someone with a friendly nature to ride beside in the cold of the territory, the conditions made only more vicious by the harsh attitudes of the soldiers around them. With one sweeping glance of the warriors riding ahead, he saw that many were older than him. They were possibly in their thirties and forties, all veterans of past conflicts and engagements, with a variety of scars and wounds as trophies.
Corsair looked back at Axel and saw someone akin to him and Ragnar in personality, youth and vitality. If he were older it couldn’t have been by any more than five years.
“You brought a lot of bags with you,” Ragnar commented.
“I’m more bags than wolf, yeah,” Axel chuckled. “It’s 50 per cent of the job.”
“The other 50 per cent?”
“Carrying the bags.”
“It sounds hard.”
“Being an apothecary? God, yeah, it can be. Still – it’s something I’m good at. I think, anyway.”
“That’s worrying for an apothecary to say,” Corsair said.
“Trust me, you’re safe in my paws… probably.”
“Did you say ‘probably’?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Got no choice but to trust me, right?”
Corsair chuckled. Ragnar looked ahead at the wolves before him.
“What is it?” Axel asked.
“Some of these wolves are huge.”
“Oh, I know. I’m kind of surprised their ictharrs can carry them. Don’t feel intimidated, though. Most of them are nice people.”
“Most of them?” Corsair asked.
“Well, not all of them. But what matters is they’re on our side and not against us. They’re tough.”
“They look like it. Are you friends with any of them?”
“Some people I know from the army came to the drive with me. None made it in though. McVarn was pretty serious about training.”
Corsair nodded. He noticed that the woods were growing closer and closer, not as far away as he anticipated, and they would be within the maze of trees in seconds. The snow-topped woodland loomed over them, beckoning them. He was somewhat unnerved.
“It’ll be a long ride,” Axel said. “Good thing you guys like the snow ’cause we’ll be seeing a lot of that and little else.”
“It shouldn’t be too bad,” Ragnar said. “Right, Corsair?”
“No, it shouldn’t.”
He already felt homesick. He looked over his shoulder again and saw the diorama of Grand Wolf Plains in the distance, with tiny specks walking back and forth on the walls and watchtowers. Quickpaw continued forwards, causing the size to keep decreasing, and Corsair knew there was no going back.
We’ll be fine.
He faced forwards, rolled his shoulders, and followed the group into the woods.
Chapter Eight
It was a laborious trek.
The journey wasn’t a problem for the ictharrs and Corsair knew it especially wasn’t a problem for Quickpaw. As rider and beast, the duo had both endured long runs through the woods and even longer training sessions during the day. This was no shock to them.
But, unlike the adrenaline rush of weaving between the trees and making sharp turns every few metres, it was boring.
An hour had passed by. Conversation died between all members of the group, leaving the herd with only the sound of snow crunching beneath the ictharrs’ paws. A trail of pawprints stretched out behind them for miles, the snowfall too light to conceal them quickly.
He glanced to his left. He was greeted by a view of the trees for the hundredth time, mounds of snow holding position at the bases. Woodland creatures peered out at him from their nests and burrows, wary of the ictharrs that plodded past.
He glanced right. Axel and Ragnar were focused on the road ahead, Arwenin and Harangoth puffing out clouds of mist with every few steps. Corsair scratched Quickpaw between the ears.
“Shouldn’t be too far now. You’re doing well.”
Quickpaw gave a growl of appreciation, turning his head to look back at his master.
“Eyes forward. We don’t want to get close to falling off another cliff.”
Corsair looked ahead to gauge how much further they had to travel and was relieved to see that he was approaching a town. Through the tree trunks, he caught a glimpse of a stone wall, most likely the perimeter defence of a settlement.
“Finally,” Axel sighed.
They pushed forwards and spotted their destination. At the end of the path cutting through the forest, wide enough for a single-file convoy of carriages to drive along, was a settlement at the top of a hill. Some huts and houses ran around the perimeter of the village, smoke puffing up from chimneys, and Corsair could see a single stone church spire rising up into the sky.
“This is Ignatius’ Mount!” Alpha McVarn yelled from the front. “No need to stare at it so hard – you’ll get sick of this place after a month!”
The group reached the top of the mount, arriving by a gate monitored by two Krosguard soldiers in suits of armour. They stood with longswords sheathed and shields standing upright by their hind paws. Both had the metal visors of their helmets raised, allowing Corsair to spot the singular red scar-like streak of paint across their right eye.
They continued into the town, crossing the vast paved courtyard before the church. Many more riders were already present in the town, candidates from other cities and settlements. Many buildings and homesteads were dotted
around the settlement, villagers walking back and forth, but the town lacked the numerous taverns and markets of Grand Wolf Plains.
“Dismount!” Alpha McVarn yelled. “Form a line against the church wall, now!”
Everyone dismounted from their saddles and Corsair followed suit, throwing one leg over before dropping down and taking hold of the reins in one paw. He hurried over to the wall, bringing Quickpaw in beside him, and was thankful that Ragnar and Axel took position on either side. Arwenin made eye contact with Quickpaw. He yapped. She grumbled and shook her head before looking away.
“Lieutenant is present!” a soldier yelled.
All the nearby Krosguard soldiers stood upright and faced forwards, forming a line before the trainees. This sight silenced any nervous murmuring that circulated the recruits, causing them to all look left.
The lieutenant wore a suit of armour, standard among the soldiers, but his helmet was tucked under his arm. His fur was grey, the same shade as the stone on which they were standing but silvering around the snout with age, and he possessed a stern face identical to Alpha Tiberius. One red streak cut across his cruel right eye.
Behind him trailed a sight that caused the ictharrs, all except Harangoth, to whimper and lower their gazes.
Around the corner crept a gargantuan ictharr, its fur as black as coal and with multiple gashes and scars left on its flanks like a wound trophy case. One harsh eye glared at the line of beasts as it padded after its master, its legs mangled and scarred horribly. It followed the lieutenant to his position before the line of recruits, snarling at them and baring its fangs. It stopped beside the lieutenant.
“Introduce yourself already, Lieutenant,” Alpha McVarn said, glaring at him.
He merely grunted, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the wolves. Moments of silence passed before he came forwards and began to walk parallel to the line, inspecting every recruit present.
He stopped in front of Ragnar.
“Ragnar Sedrid?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He nodded, murmuring to himself. Moving along, he stopped in front of Corsair. Corsair’s ears flattened and tail curled but he forced himself not to look away.
The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit Page 9