“Alpha‒”
“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”
Corsair frowned.
“Uh… yes, Alpha.”
“It’s not easy.”
“No, Alpha.”
He sighed and turned his head, meeting Corsair’s eyes.
“You know, son… I don’t like to boast… but I feel I am a good judge of character. Trust me, when you get to my age and you’ve been doing this for 30 years, you start to really know the characters that come through selection. You get the jokers, the aggressors, the overconfident – you get a wide range of people.”
Corsair didn’t interrupt.
“I was impressed by your training today. After the race this morning, your expertise with the sword shone through during those exercises, and it matched the skill you displayed when you kicked my sorry behind out of the capital.”
Corsair chuckled.
“Then came this afternoon.”
He let that hang in the air.
“I don’t want to force you to dwell on what happened because I’m sure you’re not proud of it. I won’t focus on the details. It’s your ictharr, Quickpaw.”
“Yes, Alpha?”
“I won’t lie to you, son. When I saw that starting group yesterday, I saw beasts. I saw ictharrs that would die beside their masters and defend the Clan of the Great Lupine until they had no blood left to shed. I saw riders who would command their companions and they wouldn’t hesitate to follow orders. But when I saw you there…”
He paused with maw open, trying to phrase his words correctly.
“It didn’t seem like you fitted in. Not you, specifically, but Quickpaw. He may be an adult now but all I can see is a pup out of his depth, son. I don’t see a warrior in him like you do.”
“He does listen to me Alpha.”
“I’m sure he does when you’re out on a walk or going for a ride. All ictharrs listen to their riders after they’ve got attached. He clearly loves you, son, but…”
He stopped.
“You remember what I told you back in Grand Wolf Plains? After you embarrassed me?”
This isn’t a game. This isn’t a tournament fight where losing means you miss the chance to get another engraving on your sword. Losing in war means your brother will have to bury you.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“This applies here. This isn’t a tournament fight. Sure, when you’re out and about he’s obedient, but how can we both be sure that when there’s people dying around you and arrows flying, he’ll be able to stay calm and listen to you?”
“I… I know him, Alpha.”
“And you can tell me, while looking me dead in the eye, that you know he won’t panic out there?”
Corsair didn’t answer.
“You know, we have plenty of ictharrs without riders. If you feel like you’d do better-”
“No!”
Corsair froze, seeing the unimpressed look on the alpha’s face.
“I mean… no, Alpha. I’ll see to Quickpaw. I’ll make sure this never happens again.”
The stern look faded, forgiving the outburst.
“Tell me why you’re here, son.”
“What, Alpha?”
“Tell me the reason you’re here, in the Krosguard, giving up the comfortable life of both the Winter Baron’s son and a champion fighter.”
Corsair opened his mouth to answer. The words refused to come out.
“Did your father send you?”
“I…”
He couldn’t answer.
“Look, son, I don’t have to be up at this hour doing this. I could be asleep right now and I could kick you out in the morning. At least make the effort worth it and tell me why you’re here.”
Corsair didn’t speak for a moment before he stammered out a response.
“I’m just… stressed out, Alpha.”
“Let’s not be vague, son. Tell me.”
“Honestly, Alpha, I’m…”
“Just stressed out? You really want me to believe that?”
He was caught by the alpha and he knew it. McVarn’s stern expression showed it all – he was not biting.
Finally, Corsair spoke.
“I want to do my father proud, Alpha. I want to do the clan proud. I don’t want to be a disappointment to them both by getting sent back.”
Relieved, he saw Alpha McVarn’s expression soften.
“You don’t want to disappoint him.”
“No, Alpha.”
“I can see that, son. And I know being the Winter Baron’s son isn’t the easiest thing in the world – many things aren’t. Feeling an obligation to do well on the behalf of someone you look up to can be both a relief and beyond stressful.”
“It is, Alpha.”
McVarn nodded.
“Son, I’ve made mistakes in these kinds of situations. It’s inevitable, given the amount of time I’ve been doing this. I’ve sent away wolves that would have served this clan to their dying breath and I’ve allowed wolves to continue and sent them to their death. This time, son, I want you to choose.”
He stood, taking a step out of the pew.
“You’re free to leave tonight, as always. I understand if you and your brother decide to leave and return home. If you think you’re able to carry on, though… I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning.”
Corsair didn’t answer.
“Regardless, I’ve had a word with Lieutenant Maximus and asked him to restrain himself.”
“I understand, Alpha. It’s just‒”
“He’s a piece of shit?”
Corsair laughed.
“I… I guess, Alpha.”
“I don’t like him any more than you do… but it’s beyond my power. Killers make good soldiers, I suppose.”
He turned to leave.
He turned back.
“But while I don’t like him, I like you. Out of some of those self-righteous veterans who have their snouts up their own backsides, and even in comparison to some of the soldiers already in the Krosguard, you seem like the most tolerable. Up until now, anyway.”
Corsair gave a small smile.
“Thank you, Alpha.”
“I have a duty to the clan and the Krosguard, son. If something like this happens again and you are unable to control your ictharr, you’re gone. There’ll be no other chances, no opportunity to get a new ictharr, no pleading. Being a prince doesn’t change anything. Understood?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
It was a chilly night, to say the least.
Corsair drew his cloak around him tighter, trying to shut out the snowy bombardment, but shivered with every step. The warmth of the church kept calling him back, its temptation growing as he got further away, but he couldn’t abandon Quickpaw. He needed to comfort him after the terrifying experience they had both had. He needed to be there for him.
He’d be there for me.
The snow crunched beneath every step, leaving a trail of small pawprints leading to the church door. His black pads felt cold, numb, and he wondered if the snow was starting to get through his hind-paw socks.
Hopefully Axel’s feeling okay back in the attic.
There had been a moment of fear from the apothecary. He confronted it well, but Corsair sympathised with him. Being singled out to fight two monsters was not an engagement anyone wanted to be a part of.
He took a left, walking by the perimeter wall. The gates were closed and some guards were walking back and forth along the walkway, the orange auras of their lanterns like floating dots in the darkness.
I’d hate to be on patrol at this time.
He stopped.
His ears stood.
Was that… laughter?
He could hear casual conversation emanating from a hut farther down the pathway, the door wide open with light pouring out from within. Checking behind him, Corsair eased his way towards it, making sure not to alert whoever was in there by stamping through the snow.
“It’s the first day a
nd already 10 of them have gone,” someone said.
“You’re doing a pretty good job of terrifying the new recruits,” another one said. “You must be enjoying yourself.”
“It’s easy. Like you said – it’s only been a day. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had no one left to send to Pothole Plains.”
Corsair recognised that voice.
Maximus.
“Your turn, Gregor.”
A momentary silence hovered between them, followed by the sound of dice clattering on wood. One of them groaned.
“This game is rigged,” the other complained.
“You’re the idiot placing Iggregoms on it,” Maximus said. “Should have thought of that, shouldn’t you?”
“You asked me to play.”
“Shut up, Levin,” Gregor said. “I got a fair roll.”
“Knowing you two, this dice is weighted.”
“You cashing in next turn or what?” Maximus asked.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Another moment of silence. Corsair waited, straining his ears for any more information.
“Wow,” Levin said. “You really want that money, huh?”
“I’m on a winning streak,” Maximus said. “Win the fights, win the games.”
“Nah. You got lucky in those matches – especially against Sedrid,” Gregor said.
“He’s pretty terrible for a sports fighter, let alone a prince,” Levin said.
“I couldn’t care less. Sports fighter or not, prince or not, he’s learnt his place.”
“How did he even cut in front of you?”
“The idiot probably slid down the hill and jumped the gap or something. He definitely didn’t come past me.”
“I’m surprised the thing he rides can even walk, let alone run.”
Another roll of the dice.
“Cough up,” Maximus said.
“Sure, whatever,” Gregor said, followed by the clattering of metal coins against wood. “You think he’ll last through training?”
“Who? The idiot or the mutt he rides?”
“Both.”
Maximus scoffed. “He might last another day. Maybe two. After that? He’ll get kicked out.”
“You think he’s leaving tonight after what happened?”
“No. That idiot McVarn has a soft spot for the runt. He’s not going to be kicked out.”
“You know, I got to ask,” Levin said, “is there an actual reason you don’t like him?”
“At first? Just didn’t like him. But when he crossed me and came first? Then I had an even bigger issue.”
“Seriously? That’s it?” Gregor asked.
“Do you want me to fly off into some monologue?”
“No, but… come on. You make the trainees cry and piss their beds but that’s standard. You do that with everyone. But I can tell you especially hate his guts.”
“I hate most of their guts. They walk in here thinking they own the place ’cause they fought in a war or killed someone. Very cute.”
“But Sedrid specifically?”
“Look, idiots, I came here to play a game and forget about stupid McVarn being too soft on them and telling me to calm it down with Sedrid. I have my reasons for hating him and his stupid pet that he brought with him.”
“But nothing…”
“If he was smart he would go home with his brother tonight. If he had anything up in that thick skull of his he would go home. If he was half the wolf he thinks he is, he’d go home. But he won’t. I know he won’t because he’s got his snout up his arse from being the Winter Baron’s son. I could beat him any day, with or without Thornfang, and I’ll make him hurt so bad from training that him and his twiggy ictharr will have to crawl all the way home. Now shut your maws and paw your coins over already, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Whatever you say,” Gregor said. “God. You ever relax?”
“Shut up.”
Their chatter returned to silence before Levin began talking about another subject, steering the conversation away from Corsair. The prince stood there, astounded by how viciously the lieutenant spoke of him, before creeping around the back of the hut and towards the stables.
…
Corsair walked down the stables, passing the loud snores and grunts of the dozing ictharrs in their pens. He glanced down at the sleeping forms in the stalls, lost in their dreams, until he found him.
Quickpaw lay in his stall, eyes half-open and with a defeated expression on his face. His ears hung down and his tail lay limp. He looked up at the silhouette above and realised it was his master.
“Hey.”
With a soft growl of sadness, Quickpaw turned his head to look away.
Corsair kept his green eyes on him, feeling his own ears flop down at the sight of the downtrodden and ashamed ictharr. Undoing the latch to the door, he pulled it open and stepped inside, shutting it behind him before sitting.
Quickpaw turned his head back and gave a confused growl.
“Don’t worry, I’m not angry. You’re not in trouble.”
He reached forwards to pat his companion on the head and Quickpaw obliged. He gave a low growl, one of apology, and the wolf smiled.
“I know, I know. You were brave. I was a coward.”
The ictharr felt slightly more chipper, inching over to his master to be closer.
“Why did you do it, though? To save Axel?”
Quickpaw responded with another growl and jerked his head towards the door.
“You… did it for the door?”
Annoyed, Quickpaw shook his head and did it again. Corsair tried to think of what he could be referring to, looking down at the wooden floorboards in thought, before he realised.
Arwenin.
He remembered her terrified expression and wide orange eyes, struggling as if she was fighting for dear life.
“You didn’t want her fighting Thornfang, did you?”
Quickpaw growled in agreement.
“I’m sure she’ll be really appreciative tomorrow. Well done.”
As he continued to pat his head, comforting Quickpaw as he mewled along, he realised that he still had a choice to make.
Stay or leave.
When he knew what possible fate was coming to him after that fiasco, a part of him had been overjoyed. It would have been an excuse to be sent home. He wouldn’t have to face Lieutenant Maximus’s cruelty. He wouldn’t have to prepare to rush into a bloody war. He’d be back at home.
But, within seconds, that idea quickly receded.
He knew leaving would only have him enrolled into the army instead, and it would lead him back to his father. Back to the annoyed scowl. Back to the patronising attitude. Back to the questions and the disappointment and the shame.
He moved his left paw over the left side of his neck.
I can’t go back.
But was staying an option?
Looking into Quickpaw’s purple eyes, he didn’t see a warrior. He saw his best friend. He saw the pup he rescued in the forest. He saw the pup that edged towards him in Mr Gregentop’s home. He saw one of the only things he could rely on. He didn’t see a killer.
He could die.
He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing him die out in the battlefield, slain by a blade or arrow, crying out in pain as life fled from him. There was the chance he would panic. There was the chance he would charge forwards to defend Arwenin and throw them both into peril.
But I can’t go back.
He knew that, if he stayed another day, he’d have to face Maximus again.
He’s got his snout up his arse from being the Winter Baron’s son.
He doesn’t belong here.
I could beat him any day, with or without Thornfang, and I’ll make him hurt so bad from training that him and his twiggy ictharr will have to crawl all the way home.
Corsair wanted to leave. He wanted to go back home and leave the terrifying lieutenant to toy with the others who stayed on. He wanted to spare him and his brother the tormen
t for the remaining part of the month.
But he knew the lieutenant would win.
Leaving would mean seeing his father again and knowing that Lieutenant Maximus was sneering about it to his friends miles away, satisfied with his victory.
And he’d be leaving Axel alone.
He could be the next target.
Corsair looked back at Quickpaw.
“I know that the last thing you want to do after today is face them again. Part of me wants to just go home and forget about Maximus.”
Quickpaw tilted his head, ears standing.
“But I can’t let him chase me out of here. Even if it would let us be free of him and whatever horrible thing he rides, he won’t beat us. We’ll join the Krosguard and show him and McVarn and Dad that I belong here. That you belong here. That we are warriors, just like them, and that we can face this war like a proper wolf and ictharr. What do you say?”
Quickpaw gave a yap in agreement. Corsair shushed him.
“Don’t do that, you’ll wake the others.”
He leant his head down and gave a soft yap, as loud as a whisper.
Corsair smiled. “Glad to hear you’re on board.”
Chapter Thirteen
What followed Corsair’s decision was a brutal month of relentless training and exhaustion. The snowfall only worsened day after day and it was excruciating when coupled with Lieutenant Maximus’s ruthless regimen. Quickpaw was pushed beyond his limits, forced to ride that extra metre, urged to drag the burdening load one more step. They both wavered continuously, often tempted by the idea of surrendering to defeat and packing their bags, but they endured. Numbers dwindled around them every day, more beds and stables becoming vacant as time marched on.
And, after four weeks, they made it to the final day.
Ignatius’ Mount was bustling with life in a way Corsair had never seen it before. Throughout the month, he saw lonely villagers making their way from their humble homes to the town square, meagre in comparison to Grand Wolf Plains. Life seemed bleak and tedious, with even the snowfall beginning to find itself bored, until now. Businesses flourished in the centre, selling their wares to the swarm of new arrivals. Clan flags hung high in the air, billowing in the wind, displaying the clan insignia. Wolves guided the onlookers to the many seats erected in the courtyard, offering them beverages and meals for a small price.
The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit Page 14