The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit

by H. G. Sansostri

  “I knew you wouldn’t be too far behind your brother,” Lieutenant Maximus said. “Apples and trees and whatnot.”

  Another sharp kick and Corsair let out a scream of anguish, groaning and grunting as he curled up again to shield himself. He was denied this defence, the two legionnaires each taking an arm again and forcing him up to his hind paws.

  “Where are you taking him?” the lieutenant asked.

  “To the jail. Per the Winter Baron’s orders, Lieutenant.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “That we take two Krosguard soldiers out here with us.”

  The lieutenant grinned.

  “Well, how convenient. I’ll lead you two there. Fedellis, come with me.”

  Axel stepped forward.

  “Lieutenant, I’d like to volun‒”

  Lieutenant Maximus gave him a firm shove. He fell down into the snow, landing on his rump.

  “If I catch you following us, Auryon, I’ll break your stupid tail off.”

  Lieutenant Maximus gestured for the apothecary to take his leave. Axel glanced at Corsair. The wounded prince hesitated, fearing the idea of being left in the company of the lieutenant, but nodded for him to comply.

  Knowing it was best to listen to the prince, he got up and hurried away.

  “Let’s get this traitor moving.”

  Lieutenant Maximus strode ahead of the restrained wolf, leading the legionnaires towards the jail. One canine looked over his shoulder, gesturing for the other wolf to follow. Fedellis complied. Corsair tried to make eye contact with him, to try and signal him for help, but he refused to meet his gaze.

  Both canines dragged him in the direction of the jail, Lieutenant Maximus leading the way. Fedellis brought up the rear.

  Despair clung to the last Sedrid.

  This is it. I’m going to be thrown in a cell, locked away and killed.

  There was no strength left in him to fight back or resist. There was no one to help him. All his mind could focus on was the idea that he was going to die in front of everyone else, made out to be his mother’s killer, when the true culprit was in the Great Hall of Wolves next to the Winter Baron.

  The image of his mother lying dead in the aisle, crimson pooling beneath her as a result of her sacrifice, appeared before his mind.

  He closed his eyes again and let his head droop.

  Mum, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have killed him. I should have beaten him. Because he was about to kill me you had to get involved and…

  He couldn’t bring himself to think of it. He couldn’t remind himself of the fate that befell his loving mother. Even if the image were sitting right there before him, he couldn’t utter the words that she was dead. It seemed impossible. It seemed like it was beyond any chance of occurring.

  And, yet, it had happened.

  The escort team dragged him down the empty streets of Grand Wolf Plains, heading north towards the jail where he would be left to reflect in anguish.

  Eventually, with minutes passing in silence, they passed the Lupine Halls of Justice and arrived.

  The grey brick building was relatively small, only a little smaller than the Sedrid house, and the single wooden door into the prison was chipped and weathered. Lieutenant Maximus stopped at the entrance.

  “Throw him in a cell for the night. Me and Fedellis will wait around until some more guards turn up.”

  The legionnaires nodded. They brought him towards the door, intent on walking right through, but the lieutenant put out a paw.

  “Wait a second.”

  He lowered himself down so he was in front of Corsair, holding his weak gaze.

  He grinned.

  “I’ll see you on that chopping block soon, Sedrid.”

  And with that, the canines dragged him into the jail.

  The first room was small and bare, made of stone and with the only piece of furniture being the jailer’s desk on the right side of the room. The jailer, a grey wolf with a belly bulging through his clothes, looked up and saw the three individuals standing there, eyes focusing on the young Sedrid.

  “Corsair Sedrid?” he said, standing. “Sir, why are you‒”

  “On orders of Winter Baron Tiberius, you are to ask no questions. He has committed a crime against the current leadership and the Kingdom of Opulus. He is to be imprisoned and punished.”

  The jailer hesitated before nodding, getting up and leading them through the wooden door into the next chamber. The far wall was lined with several cells, the prisoners separated from the free world by a wall of iron bars. Only one cell of many was occupied, a lone drunkard lying asleep in the corner of his cell with the small comfort of his clothes.

  Corsair was led to the farthest cell. The jailer opened the door and he was thrown inside. Corsair landed and yelped, left sprawled out on the floor, and he could barely raise his head to see the metal door shut with a painful squeal. Both legionnaires took up positions by the cell and the jailer backed away, glancing over his shoulder at the captive, before disappearing through the door and shutting it.

  In his cell, Corsair lowered his head back on to the cold stone floor and stared at the ceiling.

  Mum… why you? Why you? What did you do? What did we do?

  Eyelids growing heavier and body weakening, Corsair let out one last sob before closing his eyes and passing out.

  Rohesia could tell by the commotion outside the Great Hall of Wolves that the plan had not worked.

  She managed to evade capture when the Opulusians and Krosguard converged on the church bell tower, scrambling to the top to arrest the culprit who was no longer there. She then rushed to their rendezvous in the woods and waited in a tree near Quickpaw and Harangoth’s hiding spot, awaiting Corsair’s return.

  But Corsair and his mother never arrived.

  Telling the two ictharrs to follow, she walked back to the Great Hall of Wolves to investigate further. She hoped the outcome she dreaded had not come to pass, but her heart sank when she saw several legionnaires and wolves standing vigilant outside the building.

  If he had escaped, they would have arrived in the woods. The soldiers would be running around searching for them.

  He must have been captured.

  Or killed.

  After she returned Quickpaw and Harangoth to their stables beside the desolate Sedrid household, safe under the careful watch of Peter and the other servants, she began to search the town. She wandered down the main pathway and gazed into the darkness for any sign of her friend. Remaining vigilant for any nearby patrols, she continued to whisper Corsair’s name and survey the area, hoping that she would come across the lupine.

  Please be okay.

  She looked up and immediately felt something crash into her.

  Yelping, she hit the ground and scrambled back. She shot up, drawing her dagger and pointing it towards the person who had tackled her. He stepped back, paw moving to his longsword while the other extended out to reason with her. An ictharr growled by his side with a bundle of rope discarded by her front paws.

  “Whoa, take it easy. It was an accident, all right?”

  Rohesia kept her arm extended, the dagger sitting in her paw. She noticed a braided tail dangling behind both the wolf and ictharr but didn’t focus on it.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  He moved his paw away from his sword.

  “Are you talking about Corsair?”

  She paused. She lowered her dagger and sheathed it.

  “You know what happened to him? Is he dead? Is he‒”

  “He’s alive. Who are you? How do you know him?”

  “A cubhood friend.”

  His eyes widened in realisation.

  “You’re Rohesia?”

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. Is he okay?”

  “He’s been thrown in jail.”

  She winced.

  “Did they hurt him?”

  “From what I saw, he’s in bad shape. I couldn’t get a proper look at him bu
t he could barely walk or speak. They threw him out the Great Hall of Wolves and kicked him in the stomach, then dragged him away.”

  The jail. He’s in the jail.

  She turned, drawing her dagger from her sheath again. She had taken one step, determined to free Corsair from capture, when the braided wolf placed a paw on her shoulder.

  “I know what you’re thinking and…”

  “Get your paw off me,” she growled, shrugging his paw off and pointing the dagger at his throat. He stepped back, paws up in surrender, his ictharr snarling beside him.

  “All right, I get it, but can you put the dagger down? I’m trying to help you.”

  “Then why are you stopping me?”

  “Because you’ll die if you go over there. Every single soldier in Grand Wolf Plains is out on patrol right now or guarding the jail.”

  “I need to help him.”

  “And how are you going to do that if you’re dead, genius?”

  Rohesia paused, considering the sincerity of his warning. He seemed to have no reason to deceive her – he was a wolf, after all. His allegiance to Corsair would make sense, unlike the image of an Opulusian trying to help her.

  Then again, Tiberius was a wolf.

  And Tiberius was no ally.

  She lowered her dagger, still wary.

  “Are they going to kill him?”

  “From the way they’re acting, probably. That’s why I bumped into you – I was running to Alpha McVarn to tell him.”

  “Who?”

  “Leader of the Krosguard. He was our alpha.”

  Corsair was in the Krosguard.

  “Our alpha? You know Corsair?”

  “We fought at Pothole Plains together. I spent a whole month training with him. I’m Axel. I’m a friend.”

  “And you’re not lying to me when you say that he’s been captured?”

  “No, I’m not, and I need to get going. If you want to come with me, fine, but I need to talk to him now. Come on, Arwie.”

  He moved past Rohesia, rushing off in the direction they had been running in before. Arwenin clamped her fangs over the bundle of rope and trotted past the archer, snarling as she passed. Rohesia’s gaze lingered on the braided wolf. She hesitated, tempted by the idea of trying to rescue her friend, before seeing sense in following the Krosguard and sprinting after him.

  “I already know why you’re here and I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Rohesia and Axel were sitting in the drawing room of the alpha’s accommodation, a temporary living space while he was carrying out work in the capital away from his home town. Arwenin sat in a pen in the stables outside the house, heartily chewing the bundle of rope she had been carrying. The hardened Krosguard sat before them in his chair next to the fire, his strong face softened with remorse.

  “He’s in trouble,” Axel said flatly.

  “I know he’s in trouble. I’ve seen plenty of wolves stuck in trouble and I can assure you that he’s up to his neck in it. Killing a legionnaire tends to do that.”

  “Can we do anything to help him?” Rohesia asked.

  The look of defeat upon his face did not bode well.

  “My power as of right now is limited. I don’t know what the hell Tiberius is doing with the Opulusians but I know it’s not long before I’ll have nothing but an empty title left. I have little to no authority over the legionnaires and I wouldn’t be surprised if my authority over the Krosguard started to fade.”

  “But with the power you have now you can do something, right?” Axel said. “You can’t just let him sit there – there has to be a plan or… something.”

  “Honestly, son, I’m trying to think of one and I can only come up with some form of jailbreak attempt. How it would end is beyond me.”

  “We have to try,” Rohesia said. “They’ll kill him. All that will be left is his mother and then‒”

  “Ophelia Sedrid is dead.”

  Silence. Rohesia and Axel glared at the alpha, silent.

  “You’re kidding,” Axel said.

  “I wish I was, son. I was told 20 minutes ago when I was called down to the Great Hall of Wolves. They showed me her body. Tiberius told me Corsair killed her.”

  “How did I not know this?”

  “I don’t know – all the Krosguard soldiers there saw the body and they’re probably spreading the word throughout the barracks right now.”

  “But you don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Do I believe that the wolf I found crying and begging to be sent home after Pothole Plains, a wolf left in hysterics after one battle, is guilty of murdering his mother? Not for the life of me, son.”

  Rohesia kept staring ahead, mouth slightly agape in shock. The elegant and dignified Ophelia Sedrid, the wolf who had become nothing but a shell during the last few days of her life, the wolf she made a promise to, was dead.

  I promised to protect Corsair. I told her that he would be kept safe.

  And now the person she had vowed to protect sat in a cell, waiting to be executed.

  “We know for sure he won’t be exiled?” the Axel said.

  “Tiberius was lenient with Ragnar. He got lucky, from what they told me – even if the judges sent him to the Deuvick Feldanas. Now that another Sedrid has crossed the line…”

  He exhaled.

  “His odds aren’t great. He’ll be executed. Even if Tiberius wanted to spare him, I’m sure the King of Opulus or that Royal Order commander wouldn’t feel the same way.”

  Rohesia could imagine Corsair lying alone in a cell, the last Sedrid standing, left with the images of his dead mother in his head. He was lying there, waiting to be executed.

  I can’t let him die. He can’t die.

  “This’ll be the end of Sedrid rule as we know it,” McVarn said. “With the rest of his family dead, his execution will lead to the Tiberius bloodline.”

  “This seems all too coincidental,” Axel said. “They’re bumping off Sedrids, they have to be.”

  “It seems that way. Why? I don’t know. I don’t know what Tiberius is up to with the Opulusians but all we can focus on is‒”

  “We have to save Corsair,” Rohesia said.

  “And that’s easier said than done.”

  “You have your Krosguard here, right?”

  “Some of them.”

  “We can organise some form of rescue. We could raid the prison or‒”

  “What is it with you and that jail?” Axel interrupted. “The capital is covered by the legion. We lead an attack on that jail, it’s over. We’ll be surrounded.”

  “There’s no way we could attack the jail,” McVarn said. “Besides, when I say ‘some of them’, I mean 15. Fifteen Krosguard, as good as they can be, won’t last long. There’s at least a whole regiment of the Opulusian Legion stationed here – that’s at least 100 of them. Not to mention that Lieutenant Maximus is back and won’t want Corsair’s execution going awry.”

  “What?” the Axel said. “How? I thought he was imprisoned for what happened on final training day.”

  “I did, too. Somehow, he wriggled free of the whole thing. Tiberius most likely got him out of it. Why he should want to help that lunatic, I don’t know.”

  “So we can’t raid the prison?” Rohesia said.

  “No. It’s not an option. It’s suicide.”

  “Then… then…”

  She stammered, desperately grasping at straws for a solution, when it came to her.

  “If they execute him, when will it be?”

  “Usually he’d be trialled and, if found guilty, given a few days to live before being executed. But they told me he was being executed tomorrow morning without delay. We haven’t got a lot of time.”

  “Can Tiberius do that?” Axel asked.

  “Legal or not, he’s doing it. They want Corsair dead as soon as possible.”

  “So why aren’t they killing him now? Framing him after he’s dead?”

  “Because then the Winter Baron’s entire remaining f
amily would have been wiped out within a week without anyone seeing anything and there’s no way anyone would buy it. They need a public execution to create some semblance of legitimacy to the whole charade.”

  “Where will it be?” Rohesia asked. “The execution?”

  “Down at the market centre by the Julian Krosguard statue.”

  “Then we can attack there. We can ambush the execution and rescue him – if we get Quickpaw and Harangoth ready, we can rescue him and escape.”

  “Same problem – too few soldiers.”

  “What about the public? You thought of spreading the word to them yet?” Axel asked.

  McVarn looked at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

  “You want me to turn the public against the legionnaires?”

  “You wouldn’t need to,” Rohesia said. “They already hate the hounds as it is. If they were told that Corsair Sedrid was being framed so he’d be executed, there’d be uproar. They’d turn against the legionnaires in a heartbeat.”

  “Then they’d hear that he murdered an Opulusian in cold blood. One who, from what I’m hearing, a lot of the other legionnaires liked.”

  “Who was he?” Axel said. “The legionnaire Corsair killed?”

  “A husky called Sigil. He wasn’t an officer or a leader, just a rank-and-file soldier. Whether he was a bastard or not is hard to determine now. Look, point is that they’re not gonna let this hound’s killer get away easy. They want him dead. Even if you make it to the ictharrs, then what? Krosguard riders will pursue you.”

  “Alpha, I know it’s your job to think things through,” she said, standing. “But right now all you need to know is that we have a city filled with wolves that don’t like the legionnaires being here enough as it is. You’ve seen them dragging out other wolves, exiling them to the north. Everyone has seen it – if you can convince them enough to help us free Corsair at his execution tomorrow, they can riot. We’ll have the numbers. We have to take this chance.”

  He hummed in thought, nodding his head as he mulled things over. She kept her eyes on him, feeling them sting with the idea that he would deny the aid they wanted.

  As she opened her mouth to plead, he spoke.

  “We’ll do it. The Krosguard will agree to help – I know some riders here who’d be trustworthy. You two could also help spread the word tomorrow, get the crowds riled up. I’m sure you’ll be happy to help, son?”