The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit

by H. G. Sansostri

  Thud.

  The sword’s broadside struck the Butcher of Tomskon in the side of the head and knocked him down. He yelped and collapsed, groaning with a paw up to his temple.

  The battle concluded with a final thundering drumbeat.

  “Finish! Sedrid is…”

  The soldier was drowned out by the sudden roaring of the crowd, all of those in attendance standing up and applauding Corsair for his victory against the cruel lieutenant. Soldiers rushed into the courtyard and formed a perimeter around Thornfang, holding their swords up and forcing her away from Quickpaw.

  Corsair moved away from the hurt lieutenant, who lay dazed in the snow. He saw Quickpaw rushing towards him. Dropping his sword, he knelt and wrapped his arms around his neck. Quickpaw, tail wagging, nuzzled his master and hooked his front paws over his shoulders.

  “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  Quickpaw growled in denial.

  “Thank God. I’m so sorry that you went through that.”

  Quickpaw gave a forgiving growl. Corsair let go, smiling.

  He looked back to his mother and met her gaze, hearing her words through the roaring of the crowds.

  “I love you, Corsair! I love you!”

  He held her gaze, watching her celebrate his achievement, and felt so much pride at the sight.

  I love you too, Mum.

  The moment, however, was somewhat tarnished when his eyes fell on his father’s empty chair.

  Corsair stood before the altar.

  His name was one of the many called from the list those accepted into the ranks of the Krosguard. He earned the right to fight among the greatest wolves in the Clan of the Great Lupine and deserved the honour of wearing their armour. The pride in such an achievement, in not losing a single fight to any of the combatants, erased any sense of dread he had felt beforehand. All he could imagine was how proud his mother and father would be.

  Alpha McVarn turned to him.

  “Do you, Corsair Sedrid, willingly accept the responsibilities of a Krosguard warrior?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you promise to defend the Clan of the Great Lupine from all who wish to do its people harm?”

  “I do.”

  “And, finally, do you promise to serve valiantly in the name of the clan, the people, justice, and the Winter Baron?”

  “I do.”

  Corsair stood there for a moment in silence, ecstatic in victory, unsure of what to do next.

  Alpha McVarn coughed.

  “Time to kneel, son.”

  “Oh! Right, sorry.”

  He knelt. Alpha McVarn leant down and, with red paint on a digit of his paw, drew that familiar scar-like streak across his right eye and to the base of his snout.

  “Rise.”

  Corsair stood, feeling the paint dry on his fur.

  Alpha McVarn offered a paw forward. He shook it, making eye contact with the alpha.

  “The lieutenant is being kept from the front line after what he did and, in a few weeks, he’ll be looking at a military hearing in the capital. Despite that… son, you and Quickpaw held your own out there. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

  Removing his paw, Alpha McVarn smiled.

  “Welcome to the Krosguard, soldier.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Corsair stepped out of the church and into the snowy exterior, pelted by countless snowflakes, but the cold could do nothing to chill the prince’s spirits. There, to the side of the door, he found Axel and Ragnar waiting for him with newly-painted red streaks across their right eyes. Quickpaw, Harangoth and Arwenin stood beside them. On seeing his master, Quickpaw bounded forward and licked him across the face, getting a chuckle from the two onlookers.

  “That must be his way of congratulating you,” Axel said.

  “Definitely.”

  Corsair made eye contact with Ragnar and that was enough to initiate a hug. He came forward and wrapped his arms around his sibling, holding him there and smiling over his shoulder as his tail wagged.

  “Maximus played dirty,” Ragnar said. “And you still beat him. You didn’t lose a single match.”

  “You let me win the first one.”

  “I’m the older brother. It’s what I have to do. Regardless of what went on, you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thankfully,” Corsair said. “McVarn told me Maximus is having a hearing in Grand Wolf Plains. He’s not coming with us.”

  “Good. That sadist will get kicked out and sent back to prison, hopefully.”

  They pulled apart. Corsair found his eyes resting on the noble form of Harangoth.

  “You did well today,” he said, stroking his head. “Thanks for going easy on Quickpaw.”

  He gave an appreciative growl. As Quickpaw approached Harangoth looked down at him and nodded, a gesture that his friend returned. Arwenin observed the duo from beside Axel, allowing herself to be stroked on the side of her neck by her master.

  “Where’s Mum?” Corsair asked.

  “She’ll be somewhere around here. Knowing her, she’s hunting us down as we speak.”

  “We’d better not keep her waiting, then. Axel, do you want to meet her?”

  As he opened his mouth to answer, he heard someone call to them metres away. All three wolves turned to see three lupine maidens hurrying over, crowding round Axel with their braided tails swinging behind them.

  “There he is!” one said, pinching his ear. “Our little hero with his new Krosguard marking.”

  “Here we go,” Axel sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m a lost cause. Save yourselves.”

  “That’s not a way to talk to us when you’re in front of the champion of the Krosguard,” a second chuckled, slugging him in the arm before looking at Corsair. “Hello, Sir. I’m Moira. Axel’s sister.”

  “Hello, Moira.”

  “You were really impressive, Sir,” a third said. “I’m Monika, also this idiot’s sister. You were a lot better than him.”

  “I have to put up with this all the time,” Axel said.

  “Arwie would have done better without you,” the first one said before looking to Corsair. “I’m Eliza, Sir.”

  Axel sighed as the three demons clamoured, continuing to harass him. Quickpaw yapped with all the excitement, standing beside Axel to be involved in the commotion.

  “I suggest you two get out of here before they start thinking about braiding your tails.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be OK?” Corsair asked, stifling a laugh.

  “Probably. I wouldn’t place any Iggregoms on it, though.”

  “Let’s go and find Mum, Corsair,” Ragnar said. “We don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  The two Sedrids began to walk away with Harangoth in tow, waving back at the sisters. Quickpaw still lingered with them, yapping in excitement.

  “Come on Quickpaw!” Corsair said as he hurried after Ragnar. “Nice meeting you, Eliza, Moira and Monika!”

  “Don’t go too easy on him!” Ragnar said.

  “We won’t, Sir!” the trio said, turning on Axel as one began to pamper Arwenin.

  “Thanks for that, Ragnar!” Axel bellowed as the horde set upon him.

  They walked away. Ragnar chuckled, glancing over his shoulder.

  “We may never see him again. After they’re done with him, all that will be left will be bones and blood.”

  “I think Arwenin is enjoying it, though,” Corsair said, looking back to see her with tummy in the air.

  He was ecstatic. His tail swung from side to side. He had made it into the Krosguard. He could picture his father there, welcoming him with open arms, telling him how well he did by defeating the vile lieutenant.

  They walked into the courtyard of families hugging the soldiers, congratulating them on their entrance or comforting them after their rejection. Ictharrs, both ashamed and proud, dotted the arena.

  “Corsair! Ragnee!”

  They both looked right and saw their mother rushing towards them, two guards striding after her
in a dignified attempt to keep up. No matter how hard they braced, the princes were almost knocked off their hind paws as she launched herself at them. Corsair took one step back to balance himself, wobbling for a moment, before he hugged her. He felt his brother do the same, towering over her. Quickpaw and Harangoth stayed standing side by side as they watched the reunion.

  “We missed you,” Ragnar said.

  “I missed you both so much. There wasn’t a day that I wasn’t thinking about you two. Are you okay, Corsair? Did that monster hurt you?”

  “I’m okay, Mum. He’s in a lot of trouble with McVarn. I’m okay. We won’t see him again.”

  Corsair pulled her in closer and let his mother nuzzle him, trying to catch that familiar scent of her son. He had never thought that a month away from his mother could be so painful.

  She pulled away and placed her paws on both their shoulders. She looked back and forth between the two. Corsair saw that her eyes were glistening with tears, on the verge of weeping, and he frowned.

  “Mum, come on,” Ragnar said. “You’ll make me start crying in a second.”

  “I’m sorry… you two know I would never mean to make a scene but… it’s only been 20 years or so since you were both cubs and now look at you. You’re both my brave warriors with your new and well-deserved Krosguard markings.”

  The siblings smiled. His mother focused her gaze on the gap between the two as Corsair felt someone push through. He looked left to see Quickpaw poking his head out. Harangoth was still standing where he was left, waiting to be called over.

  “Oh, and how could I forget you, Quickpaw? You were such a hero today.”

  “He was,” Corsair said. “He’s fine, too. Hopefully they keep that monster somewhere she can’t hurt anyone.”

  She rewarded Quickpaw with a scratch behind the ears. Ragnar gestured for Harangoth to come over and he did so, padding towards his master.

  “Harangoth. You were so brave today,” she said.

  “Always by my side, huh? You never let me down,” Ragnar said, reaching up and patting him on the head.

  Harangoth nuzzled against him, a rare gesture from the ictharr, and the trio broke into laughter. They all petted the two steeds for a moment, showering them in praise, and it ended with Quickpaw on his back in the snow and Harangoth looking directly ahead.

  Corsair looked around.

  Where’s Dad?

  “Hey, Mum, where’s Dad?”

  For a fraction of a second, his mother hesitated. There was a flicker of hurt in her face, one that broke the warm and joyous attitude she was displaying, and he spotted it. She recovered before he could address it.

  “He went for a walk to the back of the church. Why?”

  “I wanted to talk to him, see how I did.”

  “You did great, darling.”

  “We did well, Corsair,” Ragnar said.

  “Yeah but… I want to see what he thought.”

  “I don’t think he’s in the mood, darling.”

  “Mum, come on, I just want to talk to him.”

  With a surrendering sigh, his mother nodded.

  “You two go together. Come back though – I want to speak to you a bit more, okay?”

  “Yes, Mum. Come on, Quickpaw!”

  Corsair turned and rushed off to the back of the church, Quickpaw in tow. Ragnar exchanged looks with his mother, reassuring her that they would be all right, before telling Harangoth to follow him and hurrying after his brother.

  Turning the corner, he found his father waiting.

  He stood ahead of him, peering out across a small plateau of snowy grass that stretched downwards into the rest of the town. He overlooked it, a guardian of some sorts, and the guards stood beside him facing the opposite direction. They saw the approaching prince but did not alert his father, knowing he would introduce himself on his own terms.

  Corsair heard Ragnar coming up behind him, Harangoth following. He gestured for Quickpaw to follow before stepping out and approaching his father.

  “Father, hey! Mum told me you were‒”

  “Leave us, guards.”

  “Yes, Winter Baron,” the soldiers said, walking past Corsair and then past Ragnar as he arrived by his brother’s side. The younger brother ignored this, continuing to talk.

  “I think it went really well that time, Father. I didn’t think I’d beat the lieutenant and Thornfang but I did! I thought I was going to lose and then they went to hurt Quickpaw and I got the snowball and hit him in the face. I was… oh, I think I did really well today.”

  His father remained silent.

  Corsair’s wagging tail stiffened and his ears twitched. Quickpaw glanced at his master, unsure of the atmosphere his father was generating, and then looked to Harangoth for advice. The black ictharr tilted his head as he gazed into the Winter Baron’s back, confused and with one ear standing.

  “Corsair, come on,” Ragnar said, placing a paw on his shoulder.

  Corsair shrugged him off and stepped forwards again.

  “Father? Why are you so quiet?”

  And, finally, his father spoke.

  “You didn’t do well, Corsair. You weren’t anywhere close to doing well.”

  “But Father, I won all my games. I beat Maximus.”

  “You didn’t deserve to.”

  Every word his father delivered cut at Corsair’s spirit like sharpened steel, slashing it down from the top and working its way to the foundation. He battled on, hoping to weather the storm and receive some form of appreciation for his performance.

  “But I…”

  His father turned and Corsair immediately stepped back, ears flattening.

  “I don’t care that you won all your games. Do you not understand what I am saying to you? You didn’t deserve it.”

  “Father‒” his brother tried to intervene.

  “I’m not talking to you, Ragnar.”

  Corsair was stunned. He blinked, his face contorted in a hurt grimace, shaking his head softly. His paw returned to its usual position.

  “I don’t… what did I do wrong?”

  His father stepped forwards.

  “What did you do wrong? What did you do wrong? Tiberius has spent years teaching you, taking my place to educate you on proper riding etiquette and technique, but when I watched you it was as if you had forgotten all of it.”

  “But‒”

  “And what the hell was that thing doing?”

  The Winter Baron pointed a digit at Quickpaw. The ictharr’s ears flattened and he shrank back, no longer willing to be part of the reunion. Harangoth stepped in front of his counterpart, staring at the wolf while Quickpaw peeked around him.

  “W-what do you mean?”

  “Running away? Crying out for you like he’s still a pup? It was embarrassing to watch. You barely had control over it and God knows why you didn’t get a new one like I told you to.”

  “Father, come on.” Ragnar tried again.

  “Don’t get me started on you, Ragnar. You don’t think I noticed you going easy on your brother? You thought you could hide that? You didn’t use your shield once.”

  “I wanted him to‒”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want. It doesn’t matter if you wanted to be nice, or to let him win, or to not hurt his feelings because your ictharr is better than whatever mutt Corsair chooses to ride.”

  Quickpaw whimpered, receding back further.

  “Because out there, in war, the rabbits won’t be nice! They’ll kill you when they have the opportunity so what you did was beyond stupid!”

  Corsair’s eyes stung.

  “I thought I did really‒”

  “You didn’t do well, Corsair. Just because you’ve come running to me, panting and whining for attention like an excitable pup, doesn’t mean I will be any less tolerant of your inconsiderate mistakes. Seriously, Corsair, what the hell were you thinking? Did you even listen to me during training? Or were you busy thinking about frolicking in the hills with that?”

/>   Ragnar glared.

  “Father, you need to stop.”

  “I will not stop, Ragnar, until you two understand the seriousness of the situation and don’t you dare take that tone with your father!”

  Corsair didn’t know what to feel. His body was taut with pain, his heart torn into pieces, and his hope shattered completely. His father had slashed the column of wishful thinking down to a stump, which he proceeded to stamp on repeatedly as if it was nothing.

  He felt betrayed.

  And that feeling of betrayal slowly transformed into anger. A lick of furious fire sparked inside him and, as the flames grew over the coming seconds, he felt nothing but hatred. He loathed the wolf who stood before him and belittled him as if he were nothing. As if he were an insignificant stain. As if he didn’t have time for him.

  Corsair growled.

  His father stopped yelling and turned his head, eyes wide and ears upright.

  “Are you… growling at your father?”

  “You’re not a father.”

  Arthur Sedrid turned and stepped forwards, Ragnar wary of the distance between them.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You’re not a father. You call yourself one all the time, saying, ‘I’m your father,’ but you’re not. You don’t act like one. You never act like one.”

  “Do not lecture me on how‒”

  “When was the last time you said you loved me?”

  Silence.

  Arthur Sedrid glared at his son, stumped for an answer. Corsair took this as a cue to continue.

  “When was the last time you hugged me? Do you remember when that was? When was the last time you took me and Ragnee to the tavern? When was the last time I even talked to you outside training? When was the last time you let me play with Quickpaw without you staring at him like you are doing now, as if he’s something evil?”

  Arthur Sedrid stared.

  “We have done nothing but slave away for you since the first day we got our swords and ictharrs. We have trained day and night for you. I have trained day and night for you. I did everything I could to impress you, to make you appreciate me and what I can do, but it’s never enough. Everything I do is flawed or stupid. I’m always the idiot late to training. I’m not good enough ever to be praised. I’m not good enough ever to be given a break. I’m not good enough even to get a pat on the back when I do something well.”