The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit
Page 28
Clang.
It was an awkward angle, only landing a glancing hit on the side of his snout where the armour protected him. Corsair tried again.
This time he hit his target.
Thump.
“Ow!”
The labrador reeled back. Corsair snatched the labrador’s short sword from his sheath as he fell backwards. The husky kicked forwards, Corsair barely dodging left and swinging. The short sword was awkward in his paw, the size and weight alien to him, so the collision against the armour only left a scratch along the surface. A snarl came from his enemy and the dog swung back with his closed metal fist. Corsair ducked down.
Without hesitation, he jabbed the short sword forwards.
He felt the tip break the surface.
The husky yelped and stumbled back, keeling over with metal paws pressed against his abdomen.
Corsair stared.
The husky eased one trembling paw away from the gash and looked down at the dribbling crimson, cursing in New Opulusian.
But Corsair’s rage was hardly exhausted.
“You’ll pay for what you did to us!”
Fangs bared and sword pointed at the wounded legionnaire, Corsair yelled out and tackled the husky.
The force behind the attack launched both of them through the doors of the tavern, landing with the legionnaire on his back and Corsair on top of him. A gasp came from the tavern’s customers as they froze, eyes on the brawling duo.
“Hey, what the hell?”
“Break it up, break it up!”
“Hit him, Sedrid!”
“Get him, go on!”
Corsair growled, determined to teach the hound a lesson. He pushed himself up on to his knees, looking down to reach for the grip of the short sword.
He froze.
The crowd gasped.
In a moment of clarity, a lapse in the fog, he realised what he’d done.
The sword protruded through a crevice in the armour, tearing through the metal muscle over the stomach and penetrating the feeble flesh beneath. The legionnaire lay there, twitching and gagging, eyes wide in pain. His arms trembled as he reached up towards the wound, finding the blade embedded in his abdomen. Corsair saw a line of crimson dribble from beneath the mask and down the side of his neck, coming from the corner of the legionnaire’s mouth.
Corsair pushed himself away and stood, wide-eyed. The sight immediately washed away all rage that had consumed him.
“I-I… oh G-God… help…”
The legionnaire coughed and choked, trying to reach out for help. He attempted to continue speaking but, with the pain racking his body, was interrupted by the blood that he was coughing up.
The labrador barged past Corsair and dropped to his knees, paws hovering over the wound in reluctance.
“Medicalis, medicalis! Get a doctor!” he yelled. “Get help, someone!”
Wolves shot up from their chairs, hurrying over to the dying husky’s side. A group of them jeered and cheered, congratulating Corsair.
He did not share their pride.
Corsair backed away, walking out the doors with his eyes still focused on the bloodied dog. Crimson slowly pooled beneath him, crawling across the wooden floorboards and towards the door as if it was trying to point to him. Some wolves glared at the young Sedrid in horror, looking from the victim to the culprit.
“No,” Corsair muttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it, I didn’t. He… he…”
And then a new wave of horror arrived.
He had given them an excuse.
He had murdered an Opulusian. He gave them a reason to arrest him. He gave them a reason to come and drag him away.
No no no no no…
With the tavern focused on the dying legionnaire, Corsair wasted no time.
Picking up his sword, he turned tail and fled.
Back down the main pathway he sprinted, muscles burning as he tried to distance himself from the husky. His eyes stung, his mind whirred, and his heart thundered.
Oh God, what have I done? What have I done?
He came against the door and berated it with clenched paw, glancing back down the main pathway with panicked eyes.
“Let me in! Please, let me in, let me in!”
“Sir?”
“Let me in, oh God, please!”
The door swung open and Corsair rushed into the house, shooting up the stairs and across the landing. He ignored Rohesia’s calls from the kitchen, alerted by his frantic behaviour, and barged into his mother’s room. His mother was sitting on the side of the bed, a servant next to her with a book in her paws, and both looked up at Corsair. Rohesia rushed in behind him.
“Mum, Mum!”
It only took his mother a fraction of a second to see the expression on Corsair’s face, shooting up to her hind paws and coming forward.
“Corsair, what’s wrong?” she asked.
For a moment, he struggled even to get a word out, left speechless by the experience.
“Corsair?”
“I… I… I killed someone. God, Mum, I killed someone.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
“I… I went for a walk and I saw one of the legionnaires who arrested Ragnar and… I killed him.”
He saw his mother’s face harden.
“I told you not to leave the house, Corsair! I told you not to leave the house!”
“I couldn’t cope!”
“I can’t cope with any of this, Corsair, but you don’t see me running around Grand Wolf Plains looking to get into fights with the bastard Opulusians! What kind of idiot does that? Why would you do that?”
“I know but, Mum, we need to go. We need to get on the ictharrs and leave. Or find a carriage. O-or we can run through the woods and‒”
“Get a bag ready.”
The servant nodded and rushed out the room.
“Mum, I didn’t mean to‒”
“That doesn’t matter now. We have minutes before they get here after finding the legionnaire. Rohesia, get a bag ready to leave and get changed. Only the essentials.”
“Of course, Lady Sedrid,” Rohesia agreed, nodding.
She turned and hurried down the stairs, leaving Corsair alone with his mother.
“Corsair, Dahlia will be making a bag for you. You’re dressed, you have your sword – all you need is food and water to last a few days travel. Take Harangoth and Quickpaw with you.”
“What about you?” Corsair asked.
“Now’s not the time.”
“No, Mum, I’m not leaving you here to be arrested. You’re coming with me.”
“Corsair, go downstairs and leave me. I’m not letting them capture my son. If we leave together, I will be unable to stall them. They will be upon our trail in an instant.”
“No, Mum, you can’t leave me. M-Mum, come on, I need you.”
“You need to hurry.”
“Mum‒”
“Go!”
She pushed him out the room and stood in the doorway, a barrier to prevent him running back inside. The young Sedrid turned to face his mother, eyes red with tears and ears down.
“If you die, Corsair, it will kill me. If I die, you’ll be able to keep living. You’re young. You have your life ahead of you.”
“No, Mum, please. Mum, don’t leave me.”
His mother came forwards and wrapped his arms around her son, Corsair hugging her back and hiding his face in her neck.
“I love you so much, Corsair,” she said, nuzzling him. “You can do this. I will always be with you, no matter what.”
“Mum, please. I can’t do this alone.”
“Rohesia will look after you.”
His mother forced him off her and stepped back, paw on the door.
“And God will keep you safe.”
“Mum, no!”
Corsair came forwards to barrel into the room but his mother slammed the door in his face, locking it and leaving him outside. Both paws resting on t
he door, he stared at the wooden panelling through red-rimmed eyes.
“Mum?” he whimpered. “Please let me in…Mum?”
No response.
“Corsair!” Rohesia yelled. “We need to go!”
He continued to stare for a moment, locked in a trance. He knew he would never see his mother again, that he was being sent away so he could live, and he resented himself for his stupidity. He shouldn’t have let his anger get the better of him. He shouldn’t have let his rage damn them.
“Corsair, we haven’t got time!”
I love you, Mum.
He wiped away the tears and stormed back down the landing, taking his bag from Rohesia and rushing away through the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ten minutes later, Ophelia Sedrid was sitting on her side of the bed, Peter standing by the door in silence.
One paw rested where Arthur once lay.
She stared longingly at the empty place where he used to sleep. Transfixed by the memory of her husband sleeping there, snoring, she felt at peace with herself.
I did the right thing.
She didn’t care if he killed someone – Corsair was her son and that fact came before anything else. She would never pass him over to the brutal hounds that patrolled Grand Wolf Plains, never betray the intangible bond between the two, and she was ready to die hundreds of agonising deaths to protect him.
She remained silent and closed her eyes. She bowed her head in prayer, one paw still resting on the bed with the other on her lap, before standing and walking to her dresser. On its surface was a single letter, held shut by a black wax seal with the Clan of the Great Lupine’s insignia stamped on it.
She loved and, simultaneously, loathed it.
She lifted it up.
Should I have given this to him?
Sighing, she looked down at the dresser drawer. She didn’t know to what extent her room would be ransacked. There were no loose floorboards for it to seek refuge beneath.
She looked to Peter, who made eye contact with her.
“This is… something I wanted Corsair to have.”
“Milady?”
“I wanted to give it to him but… it felt wrong. It felt insulting. I want him to find it one day but… now? This cannot be at the forefront of his mind.”
She held it out to Peter.
“These hounds are ruthless. They will search me, certainly, and they will search my room. Perhaps they will not be so thorough with you. Hide it on yourself or somewhere they will not search.”
Peter hesitated for a moment, unsure of himself.
“You will see them yourself, Milady, I am sure.”
“I wish I could be so certain, too,” she chuckled. “Please.”
Peter sighed and eased it out of her paw. He slid it into his uniform, stowing it away from sight.
“If you ever come across Corsair or Ragnee then I ask that you give it to them.”
“I’ll protect it with my life, Milady.”
“Thank you. Peter?”
“Yes, Milady?”
“Was it wrong of me to have kept it hidden? What Arthur did?”
“Perhaps, Milady, but I can hardly vilify you for complicity when I have been silent. The love we had for him, the respect we had for him, blinded us. Perhaps… as wrong as we are to have not spoken, he was the one who placed us in such a troubling situation. The onus is on him… wherever he may be now.”
And then they arrived.
Ophelia heard the door fly open, followed by the yells of fake surprise from the servants. Voices filled the room as the legionnaires spread out throughout the household, already rushing into the kitchen and coming up the stairs with terrifying speed.
“On the ground!”
“We have the right to search this property under the authority of Winter Baron Tiberius!”
“Resist and you will be met with force!”
Ophelia, as she heard the squad of legionnaires barge into Corsair’s room, stood and composed herself. She considered herself quite the actor – she wasn’t beyond playing the fool if she needed to.
“Ready, Milady?” Peter asked, paw on the door.
“I am ready.”
Stay safe, Corsair.
With that final thought echoing in her mind as the door was opened, she took a deep breath and stepped out.
The interior was besieged. Five legionnaires scoured the ground floor, with two of the five tending to the servants lined up against the wall. A single figure, adorned in golden armour, stood by the fireplace whilst watching the raid ensue.
“What is the meaning of this?” she bellowed.
She yelped with shock as she felt one strong paw land on her shoulder, already directing her towards the stairs. It belonged to a legionnaire guiding her down towards the other marauders. Another legionnaire grabbed Peter and marched him towards the stairs, sword held in his other paw.
“Ophelia Sedrid, we are searching this residence for a fugitive,” the legionnaire said. “We would appreciate it if you cooperated and did not interfere.”
Aware of the Opulusians’ aggression, she did not dare to resist. Instead she donned a look of confused anger, shooting glares at one legionnaire and then shifting her gaze to another. She saw four other legionnaires ransacking Corsair’s room, searching under the bed and in the corners before filing out to search Ragnar’s room. She hid her satisfaction. They would find no one there.
The idiots.
She allowed herself to be escorted to the dining table. Peter was forced on to his knees alongside the other servants, paws placed on the back of his head.
“Sit.”
A legionnaire pulled out a chair and forced her down, making her snarl in response. The legionnaire stepped back, short sword sheathed, and lurked behind her.
Ophelia looked back to the lone soldier by the fireplace.
He watched his fellow soldiers. His golden armour indicated that he was of another military position, probably of higher rank than his fellow legionnaires. A golden variant of the same helmet masked his identity.
He looked up to the landing above. An exchange in New Opulusian passed between him and a legionnaire on the landing, the latter relaying information of their findings to their superior. The leader spoke in that same tongue but something was peculiar about it – it was a seemingly more informal dialect than she had heard the king speaking.
The leader looked down from the landing and towards Ophelia. A pair of strong gold eyes met hers through the holes in his mask. She looked away.
Ophelia heard the legionnaires filing out of the rooms and making their way down the stairs, taking up positions along the walls, while a few walked outside to guard the door. She could hear them outside, urging some people to move along, until the sound was muffled by one of the guards shutting the door to hide the activity within.
Silence.
The leader glanced at the door, waiting a moment, before he looked back and approached Ophelia. He stopped by the head of the table, looking down at the wolf, before he reached up and removed the helmet from his head and placed it in front of her.
“I’m sorry for the mess,” Valour said. “We have met before. I’m sure you remember.”
“I don’t care if we’ve met before,” Ophelia said. “I want to know the meaning of this invasion. This is an unwarranted attack on my privacy while I’m still mourning the loss of my husband. What is happening?”
“We’re looking for your son.”
She flinched.
“Corsair? For what reason?”
“We‒”
“Are you here to take him away as well?”
“Milady‒”
“Tiberius has the audacity to come and take another son from me, just like he did to my precious Ragnee?”
“Milady, I will explain all in due time if you let me speak.”
She scowled at the doberman, turning her snout up at him, before crossing one leg over the other.
“Speak.”
“His partner attempted to treat the wound but the legionnaire was dead by the time an Opulusian Legion doctor arrived on the scene. Your son killed one of our legionnaires. This is a very serious matter and we are to arrest him at once. We were hoping you, if we did not find him here, would be able to tell us where he could be.”
She was silent, mouth open.
“Milady?”
“I… I don’t know where he is.”
He looked unimpressed.
“I respect your loyalty to your son but we know he came home right afterwards.”
“He did no such thing. He left home this morning and then didn’t come back. I thought you might have snatched him off the street.”
“Milady, as a parent myself, I don’t need any evidence or witnesses to know he returned home after the incident because the first thing my daughters would do in a terrible situation like that is come to me or my husband.”
Ophelia was caught off-guard by this information. She quickly steeled herself, growling, before retorting.
“Corsair isn’t like your daughters.”
“Your son killed him.”
“My son did not hurt that legionnaire.”
“A lot of people say otherwise, Milady. I know he killed him.”
She opened her mouth but found that she could not provide any evidence. Cornered, with Valour seeing through her lies, she felt the urge to confront him directly grow inside of her, emitted through a rising growl.
“He was here on the night Ragnee was taken.”
“Who?”
“This legionnaire you are speaking of. He helped take my son away. Corsair saw him and… that is when the altercation started.”
“Altercation? He killed him, Milady.”
“Only after you killed his brother.”
“Ragnar Sedrid has been exiled‒”
“To the Deuvick Feldanas. He will freeze to death if he doesn’t starve.”