The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit

by H. G. Sansostri

  Valour was silent. She continued.

  “So if you think you can walk in here and expect me to bark up an answer as to where my son went, you’re a fool. You’re all idiots if you believe that for a second. I’m not letting you kill my second son.”

  He remained silent for the next few seconds, held back by Ophelia’s outspoken love, and tried again.

  “Your son is responsible for the death of an Opulusian and it’s my duty to my kingdom to assure that those related to the deceased receive justice as compensation.”

  “Justice? Justice for what, being related to a hound who would tear a son from their family without question?”

  “Ragnar Sedrid was conspiring to overthrow the Winter Baron.”

  “He was framed. He would never do such a thing. He has no lust for power, unlike that monster you work for.”

  Valour scowled.

  “Milady, maybe you do not understand. This legionnaire had sons. This legionnaire had a husband. He had a name. Sigil Longvidas. He had a family. If he were a monster for supposedly tearing a hole in yours, what does it make Corsair for doing the same to another?”

  “Maybe you should tell his adoring husband and sons that he helped punish an innocent person.”

  “Maybe it’s your careless disregard of life that put Corsair on the path of murder.”

  Whether or not it was intentional, Valour struck a nerve.

  “Don’t you dare lecture me on poor upbringing! I have raised that pup with nothing but love and care! You have no right, no right, to walk in here and tell me how I have raised him!”

  She was slightly out of breath, drawing in air quickly to recover from her rage. The doberman maintained eye contact with her.

  “I am being lenient here, Milady. If you don’t tell us where he is, I’ll have to bring you down to the Great Hall of Wolves for further questioning.”

  “I have nothing to say to you. Take me to Tiberius – you’re a fool if you think anything will change.”

  “Don’t make this harder than it actually is, Milady.”

  She glared at him. Valour sighed and turned to the legionnaires. He delivered a command in New Opulusian. Without hesitation, the legionnaires stepped back from the servants, sheathing their weapons. Valour gestured to the hound behind Ophelia and the legionnaire nodded, stepping forwards and placing his gauntleted paw on her shoulder again. She did not flinch – instead, she stared defiantly at her captors, unfazed by the helmets and swords before her.

  “Do you need a cloak?” Valour asked.

  “Upstairs, in my room.”

  He turned and made eye contact with the nearest legionnaire, who nodded and raced up the stairs to retrieve her apparel. Valour stepped towards her.

  “Milady, we will find him with or without your help. I can’t guarantee it will be as pretty without. If you are as compassionate as you seem, you should tell me where he is. For his wellbe‒”

  “And if you were any less of an idiot than I think you are, you would consider my words. You’ll never find him. You all stand here in your suits of armour and wielding those sharp swords, kicking down doors and trying to drive fear into us. But my son will outsmart all of you dumb mutts, and he’ll make you look like nothing but a few pathetic pups in oversized suits of armour, tails between your legs.”

  The legionnaire returned. She snatched the cloak from him and pulled it over herself.

  “Drag me away, then. You’ll get nothing out of me.”

  “Oh God oh God oh God…”

  “Corsair, be quiet.”

  The duo hid within the snowy woodlands of the south, concealed behind a fallen tree trunk. Knowing that patrols would spot them as they fled, Rohesia suggested waiting for a good moment to make their way through the forest. Even with the speed of Quickpaw and the strength of Harangoth, they were no longer protected by their armour – a stray crossbow bolt would risk bringing either beast down if well placed.

  Rohesia was hunkered down beside Corsair, bow at the ready, with leather armour strapped over her torso and black slacks pulled hastily over her legs. Harangoth lay on his front beside her, ducked down behind the log, while Quickpaw lay next to Corsair with his concerned eyes trained on him.

  Corsair was a wreck.

  Sniffling and whimpering, he sat with his back up against the trunk. He held his paws over his snout, trying to muffle his cries and whines, but he couldn’t stop the fierce oncoming emotion.

  Mum’s dead Mum’s dead Mum’s dead…

  They heard yelling from the house only minutes ago, carried along by the frosty winds. Rohesia told him where his mother was being led to, having spotted her en route to the Great Hall of Wolves while she was scouting the area. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. He had left the house to go on a walk. He had allowed himself to be tempted to go to the tavern. He had stabbed the legionnaire in the stomach, killing him in front of tens of witnesses.

  It’s all my fault! Why did I do that? Why?

  “Rohesia?”

  “Quiet.”

  “R-Rohesia‒”

  She turned.

  “You’re going to get us caught, be quiet.”

  “I’ve killed her, haven’t I? They’ll kill Mum in my place. And then it’s just… it’s just…”

  Then it’s just me.

  That thought scared him. The idea that he was the last Sedrid standing made him let out a whimper. Quickpaw mewled in sympathy with his master, pushing his snout into the side of his leg, but he ignored him.

  “What do we do?”

  “We go.”

  “No, Rohesia, we can’t‒”

  She gestured for him to lower his voice.

  “She told us to go.”

  “And there’s no way I’m doing that. We can rescue her and‒”

  “I’m not sure I should even listen to what you’re saying.”

  “Okay, Rohesia, I‒”

  She punched him in the arm.

  “Stop being a pup for five seconds and be quiet.”

  She glanced over the tree trunk, checking for any nearby patrols, before turning back.

  “I told you to not go out. I told you it wasn’t smart but you still went out there. God, I should have stopped you. You went out there and killed a legionnaire.”

  “He arrested Ragnar.”

  “And now his friends are coming to kill you, you idiot.”

  “And I can’t let Mum suffer because of my stupidity.”

  She was quiet. Her eyes focused on the shimmering, red-rimmed eyes of her friend, pleading with her to cooperate. Quickpaw and Harangoth’s eyes were trained on the distraught Corsair.

  “She’s all I have left. Dad’s dead and I can’t even guarantee Ragnee is still alive. If I lose Mum, I won’t be able to cope. She’s all that I have. I can’t turn my back on her and leave.”

  “This is even assuming they’ll kill her, Corsair. Do you know how unstable the clan would become if they found out the legion had executed her?”

  “But that still doesn’t make it right. She’s doing it because she doesn’t want me to die.”

  “I understand her.”

  “So do I. But I don’t want her to die, either.”

  “Even if we’re assuming they’ll hurt her, Corsair, if you go back you could both die.”

  “And I’d rather be dead than be alive in a world where I’m all alone.”

  “What are they gonna do, Corsair? There’s no way they’d kill her. At worst, she’s an accomplice.”

  “I can’t afford to take that chance.”

  He glared at his friend, her eyes holding his gaze.

  “Rohesia… please. Please.”

  She hesitated, looking away for a few seconds, before looking back.

  “My gut is telling me this is a bad idea… but okay. Okay, we’ll rescue her.”

  He let out a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you, Rohesia, thank you. We’ll do it – we’ll save her and get out of here.”

  “She was be
ing taken to the Great Hall of Wolves. That’s heavily guarded.”

  “We’d need to distract them somehow.”

  “How?”

  Corsair was left stumped by the question. He descended into thought, conjuring up different solutions to the problem before him. She reached an idea, looking back up.

  “The church’s belltower.”

  “You could ring it?”

  “Maybe. Or I could howl. I could do something to get their attention and make them head my way.”

  “That sounds as if it would work, but you’d need to get out of there as soon as possible.”

  “I’m more worried about you. If I mess up the timing-”

  “You won’t.”

  “But I could.”

  “Rohesia, trust me, you won’t. I’ll be fine.”

  She held his gaze, lacking confidence in the idea, but nodded.

  “I’ll get ready near the hall tonight. You’ll head off to the tower and howl or ring the bell, which will make them run over towards the sound thinking it’s me. I’ll go in and get Mum and then we’ll meet up in the woods to escape. We’ll leave Quickpaw and Harangoth here to lead us away from Grand Wolf Plains when we get back.”

  “What about Quickpaw and Harangoth? A patrol could find them out here, alone.”

  “We’ll hide them in bushes or something. We have to take that risk. And they’re smart.”

  Quickpaw mewled in agreement. Harangoth remained silent.

  “And there’ll be soldiers inside the Great Hall of Wolves, Corsair.”

  “I’ll go in from the gallery above, see how many legionnaires there are before I try to rescue her. I can do it.”

  “There’s a risk that‒”

  “It doesn’t matter. If I can get out of here with her, it’s worth it. She’d do the same.”

  Rohesia looked worried by the idea of his death lurking in the shadows, waiting to claim him, but she complied with a nod.

  “Okay, okay,” Corsair said. “We can save her. We can do it.”

  “Just be careful, Corsair.”

  With that, the two cubhood friends waited in silence for dusk to arrive.

  A Brazen Rescue

  (1139, Aestiom)

  Ophelia sat on the bench with a perfect posture and stern expression.

  The hall was empty except for the five legionnaires standing in the room with their backs pressed against the wall. They each held a crossbow, bolt loaded with sharpened tip, and each had a sword in the scabbard on their belt. None of them spoke or made a sound. The only ones who dared speak were the two people in front of her, a half-metre away.

  “Ophelia,” Winter Baron Tiberius pleaded. “You need to understand that there is a family on the other end of this. The law is the law, the rules apply to everyone. He killed a legionnaire. You need to tell us where he is or you’ll be tried for being an accomplice to murder.”

  “I’m not telling you a thing.”

  Valour stood a metre behind the Winter Baron, both arms down by his side with one paw holding his helmet. Sympathy lurked behind his eyes, visible on the other side of the icy layer, but Ophelia could tell the hound valued his duty more than he wished to help her.

  “Your son killed that legionnaire,” Winter Baron Tiberius repeated.

  Ophelia remained silent.

  “You are not helping Corsair here.”

  “I’m not helping him?” Ophelia scoffed. “If I tell you where he is, he dies. I’m not stupid. You’ve taken Ragnee from me in the middle of the night and you think I’ll be willing to let you do the same to Corsair? Do you take me for an idiot?”

  “I take you for someone rational, Ophelia. Someone who knows the right thing to do.”

  “Flattery won’t work with me.”

  The Winter Baron shook his head and looked to the commander standing behind him, who also shook his head.

  “Damn it, Ophelia, you are making this situation escalate further than it has to.”

  “You and your band of legionnaires have made this situation escalate, not me. You have kicked down my door and stormed my home twice. You have robbed me of one son – you will not rob me of the other.”

  “And I’m sure by this point you know what repercussions you face. You’re complicit by hiding a fugitive, Ophelia. You could go to jail.”

  Ophelia stood.

  “I do not care what happens to me. Jail or death I do not fear. My husband is dead. My eldest son is exiled and left to die. If I can defend the last thing in my life that I love, I will do it in a heartbeat. So go on. Remind me of the punishment I face. Remind me of what will happen if your mighty little soldiers can’t find Corsair. I can assure you that you will never, never, overcome the love I have for my son.”

  She shook her head, scowling.

  “To think we once let you train them. We once let you into our home. We treated you like a friend. Arthur trusted you. If only we knew what lengths you’d go to spit on his grave.”

  Winter Baron Tiberius held her strong gaze, one that was filled with passion and pride for her youngest son. Eventually, he looked away and began conversing with Valour, communicating with him in a whisper Ophelia couldn’t overhear.

  She sat down and bowed her head.

  Stay safe, Corsair. God’s watching over you.

  Corsair crept up to the corner of the building and stopped. He peered around the house on to the main pathway and saw the lights of the Great Hall of Wolves further along, bathing the surrounding perimeter in warm light.

  There it is.

  He knew his mother was inside that building, sacrificing herself to allow him to escape. He hoped that nobody dared to lay a paw on her.

  Please be safe.

  He moved his focus on to the front of the building and saw several soldiers standing guard outside. To his surprise they were not the canine warriors he had expected – instead, Krosguard soldiers were posted on watch around the building, each holding a lantern up in the air to illuminate their surroundings.

  While he felt more comfortable with the idea of his lupine brethren being nearby, he couldn’t risk being spotted. Orders were orders – he would be arrested or killed on sight.

  He glanced to the opposite side of the path. There, around to the back of the building, was a rear staircase into the viewing gallery above where he could survey the interior. Looking down, he gave his sword a reassuring tap on the hilt before raising his head.

  Now all he had to do was wait for the signal.

  He crouched to conceal himself in the shadows further, wary of the possibility that a patrol could head down the path from the east and spot him as they moved. The snowfall wasn’t as thick as it had been earlier, which he would have appreciated at that moment, but waiting for it to become more ferocious was out of the question.

  I’m coming Mum. I’m coming.

  Then, he heard it.

  At first, the bell sounded like a usual component of the night soundscape. The soldiers, at most, gave a casual glance towards the church before looking away. Then, however, a howl rang out across the silent town. It echoed down the main pathway and caused the soldiers to turn, peering over towards the bell tower.

  “What the hell?” one said.

  “Is that him?”

  “Probably.”

  “What’s that idiot doing? He’s going to get himself caught,” a familiar voice said.

  Axel?

  He didn’t focus on it. Corsair’s eyes shot over towards the door as a legionnaire stepped out.

  “Where’s that howling coming from?” they asked.

  “From the church.”

  A Krosguard soldier pointed up towards the silhouette of the tower in the distance, the bell continuing to toll as Rohesia howled again.

  “That could be him,” they ordered. “Converge!”

  The Krosguard were reluctant, only some beginning to move.

  “I said converge! Move it!”

  The whole squad hurried off in the direction of the tower, yell
ing to one another as they did so. The legionnaire watched them rush off in the opposite direction, eyes lingering, before disappearing back inside and shutting the door.

  Corsair looked towards the tower and nodded.

  Thank you, Rohesia. Now get out of there.

  Hoping the archer would know when to make her quick getaway, he crept across the road. Looking left and right, he assumed the coast was clear and advanced, moving to‒

  The doors flew open as a legionnaire stormed out the Great Hall of Wolves, four others following behind them. He gasped and ducked behind the corner of the building, heart pounding in his chest, ears strained to listen for any indication they had seen him.

  As the doors shut again, all he could hear was the sound of the legionnaires’ yells fading into the distance.

  That was too close.

  He waited a moment, allowing his frightened heart to calm down, before looking towards the next corner and advancing. Carefully, he peeked around it with one eye. One paw rested on the grip of his sword as he did so, ready to dispatch any threat before him quickly.

  To his relief, not a soul was visible by the stairs.

  He checked over his shoulder. With no one behind or ahead of him, the coast was clear for Corsair to creep up the stairs and stop by the door. He placed a paw on the panel of wood and gently pushed it open, peeking through the growing gap between the door and the frame for any sign of a legionnaire. Fortune favoured him – there was no one in the gallery. He hurried in before easing the door shut.

  “One of the legionnaires told me that there’s howling at the bell tower,” a familiar voice said.

  “So that’s him?”

  “It very well may be a diversion of some kind – a fugitive on the run wouldn’t stand on a bell tower and call everyone to them – but we’ll see.”

  “My son wouldn’t be so stupid.”

  Corsair froze as he heard his mother’s voice, strong and firm. It brought him relief that she was well enough to speak with such an authoritative tone.

  She’s not injured, thank God.

  “You’ll have a chance to say your goodbyes when he is escorted here.”

  As they argued, he edged towards the banister and peered over.