The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit

by H. G. Sansostri

  Axel hesitated. A troubled look was upon his face.

  “I mean… I don’t like the idea of so many innocent people being in the heat of it all if it kicks off but… I haven’t got a choice, have I? It’s this or let Corsair die.”

  He exhaled.

  “I think… I can’t stand by and watch this happen. I’ll help.”

  “It’s not an easy decision, son. And you? Your name?”

  “Rohesia.”

  “I can see you want Corsair to make it out safely. You know him?”

  “A cubhood friend, Alpha. I can’t see him die.”

  “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect either of you two to see him die tomorrow. If this goes well, we can evacuate Corsair from the clan to wherever the hell we think of taking him. I know for a fact it can’t be in the Clan of the Great Lupine’s territory, that’s for sure.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” the two wolves agreed, nodding.

  McVarn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “I can promise you this, though. Tomorrow, when we decide to start the riot, there’ll be a lot going on. If we get the public involved then… I know for a fact some people might die. Those dogs are ruthless. You two need to make sure Corsair makes it out alive. If he dies during the escape then all of this will be for nothing and a lot of people will die in vain. At the very least make their deaths matter.”

  Rohesia and Axel nodded.

  “And when you get to those ictharrs, run. They will chase you, no doubt, and they will throw every javelin and crossbow bolt at you to make sure Corsair doesn’t make it out of here alive. Your ictharrs better be ready to run until they collapse.”

  “Quickpaw will be more than ready,” Rohesia said.

  “And I’ll keep them off Corsair as best I can. Arwie’s capable,” Axel said.

  “I don’t doubt it. You two can stay here for the time being, rest a little. I’ll head to the barracks and give the troops I trust the rundown, let them know what the plan is, and make sure we are prepared for tomorrow.”

  Rohesia watched the alpha get up and disappear up the stairs, moving into his room to retrieve something. Axel sat back down, exhaling as he did so, and rubbed his face.

  She glanced out the window.

  She could see the distant glow of the sun dawning on the horizon, rising to mark a new day. She focused her eyes on it. She knew that the moment the sun rose, the snow would be stained crimson with the blood of many wolves, all sacrificing themselves to preserve Sedrid rule.

  A promise to keep Corsair safe from harm.

  “I will,” she muttered. “He’ll make it out of this alive, or I’ll kill every last hound that lays a paw on him.”

  The End of a Life

  (1139, Aestiom)

  Corsair was, agonisingly, awake when the sun rose over Grand Wolf Plains. He trembled and shivered on the floor, tucked away in the corner where he had managed to drag himself, eyes flickering open and shut. Throughout the night he had repeatedly wavered in and out of consciousness, every part of his body aching. Even the most minor movement was a taxing undertaking.

  The experience was worsened by the persisting memory of his mother’s death. He kept seeing her body over him, Valour’s sword through her back and chest, her eyes wide as she fought for life. He kept remembering how she had thrown herself in front of the sword to save him.

  He remembered how he lost the duel.

  He remembered that, because of him, his mother intervened.

  Why didn’t I kill him? Why couldn’t I just kill him?

  He heard the door to the prison chamber open and shut. He slightly tilted his head to focus his eyes on the jail door, wincing as he did so. Four guards now stood in front of his cell, the two original captors reinforced with an additional pair of legionnaires. He knew there would be further hounds waiting outside, securing the building to make sure no one would try and break in.

  Not that anyone would have any reason – only Axel had seen what had happened to him. Rohesia would have no idea where he was until his final moments, about to be executed in front of everyone.

  He was going to die alone and with his people thinking of him as a monster. As a traitor.

  Someone padded over from the door to the cell. The four guards stood upright and ceased their conversations, snouts aimed up high. Corsair let out a shaky breath and kept his eyes on the cell door.

  Commander Valour, leader of the Royal Order’s Militaria chapter, stepped into view with helmet tucked under arm and sword sheathed.

  Neither said a word.

  Valour focused his eyes on him. Corsair returned the glare. He could only lie there, sickly like a pup, waiting for it all to be over.

  The commander muttered something in New Opulusian. The legionnaire responded before he turned and unlocked the cell. The keys jangled in his paws as the other three walked out of the room. Valour patted the remaining legionnaire on the shoulder as he left, leaving him alone with the injured wolf as the door shut.

  He remained there for a further moment, eyes on Corsair, before he pushed the door and stepped in.

  “I know that I’m the last person you want to see. I…”

  He hesitated.

  “My apologies will never be enough. I know that.”

  Corsair murmured something, mouth wide open as he raked in breath.

  “Pardon?”

  “If you were… really sorry… you’d tell everyone you killed her.”

  He hesitated, considering it, before shaking his head.

  “I… I can’t. More people would die. I have a duty.”

  An ember of fury sparked inside of Corsair. He snarled.

  “Then… y-you’re not sorry…”

  If he weren’t trapped in such pain, he would have thrown himself at the doberman. But the ember fizzled out. He was too weak to go beyond the snarl. He lay there, glaring at the murderer, knowing that if he were strong enough to stand he would kill the doberman where he stood. He would avenge his mother and kill the commander with the blade that he used to kill her.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

  “I don’t… believe that for a… second.”

  “Cors‒”

  “S-shut up, just… be quiet. I d-don’t…want to hear…you try t-to ease your… conscience…”

  Valour stood there in silence, uncertain, before he turned to the door.

  “Come in!”

  The door opened again and the four legionnaires strolled back into view, glaring at the wolf. Corsair tried to prop himself up on his arm but failed, slipping back on to his side.

  “Forgive me, Corsair. I didn’t want it to be like this.”

  He hesitated again, troubled, before he shook his head and issued a command to the legionnaires in New Opulusian. He stepped back as the four legionnaires walked in, cornering the Sedrid and immediately setting upon him. Two pinned him down while the rest tore away his top and slacks, leaving him only with his undergarments. His lack of clothes only revealed the severity of the bruises left upon his body, the skin beneath the fur black and purple.

  Corsair shivered on the ground, still curled up on his side, shielding his chest with his arms and shifting his eyes from one guard to the next in sequence. He noticed that they kept their distance from him, one of them stepping back out of the cell.

  He saw the legionnaire step around the door with a pail of water.

  “Hope this hurts, bastard!”

  The legionnaire threw the contents over the wolf and the icy water stabbed at him with frozen daggers from every side. Corsair gasped and strained on the floor, coughing up some water that splashed into his mouth and blinking his eyes clear.

  “Get up.”

  Two legionnaires grabbed him, one for each arm, and hauled him up to his hind paws. Corsair struggled but the attempt was so feeble that his strength petered out within a second. He dangled from their arms as they dragged him from the cell and through the jail, Valour and the other legionnaires foll
owing.

  As soon as the door opened, Corsair was blasted with a freezing hell. The snow was vicious, beating his exposed body as he tried to shy away from the cold winds. The soaked fur clinging to him and the lack of clothes made the once tolerable bite of the wind unbearable.

  The two hounds stopped by a pile of snow and threw him into it. He howled as he landed, the bruises being attacked by the dreadful cold, and was left shivering viciously in the snow. They grabbed him, dragging the prisoner away to his doom.

  “I hope it hurts as much as it did for Sigil,” one of the legionnaires growled.

  “Count yourself lucky Sedrid,” the other snarled. “Some of our friends wanted to do a lot worse.”

  The path to his execution was lined with legionnaires and lupine soldiers, all standing guard to prevent any interception while he was being escorted. A group of citizens argued with a squad of Opulusian legionnaires to the left as they turned right, being held back by the presence of sharpened swords.

  Corsair saw him.

  Lieutenant Maximus stood off to the side, grinning at him as he was escorted past.

  “You’ll be joining mummy soon enough, Sedrid.”

  Too weak to reply, Corsair was dragged away. Valour overtook them, leading the way, ignoring the shouts of wolves nearby as they pointed out the convict.

  Finally, they arrived at the base of Julian Krosguard’s statue.

  The centre had been cleared, leaving the market stalls empty and desolate. A perimeter of steel-clad dogs held the line from all sides of the town centre, some Krosguard supporting their defence as they patrolled the lines of civilians watching.

  They all think I’m a monster. They all think I killed Mum.

  He closed his eyes.

  Ragnee, Mum… Dad… I’ll see you soon.

  Not too far from the east side of the main path was an execution block, hastily placed. Corsair was escorted to it and forced down to his knees. A weak growl came from him in protest of the pain shooting up his legs.

  “Down.”

  One legionnaire placed a paw on the back of his head and forced it down on to the block. He whimpered, his head resting on its side. He could still see the area in front of him by moving his eyes, not given enough leeway to turn even by the slightest angle.

  Valour drew his longsword.

  “Citizens of Grand Wolf Plains!”

  The crowds fell silent, the yells dying down to murmurs and the murmurs finally dying altogether. All eyes fell upon the sight of Corsair Sedrid being held down, seconds away from his demise.

  “Today marks the day where justice is brought down on the wicked! Today, Corsair Sedrid meets his just punishment for the murder of Sigil Longvidas, a devoted member of the Opulusian Legion who fought for the security and safety of both the Kingdom of Opulus and the Clan of the Great Lupine! He had his life snuffed out by this wolf yesterday for no reason – not that any reason could justify such an outrageous crime!”

  Corsair could do nothing but listen to the lies and wait. How the doberman could don such a fake face and spew lies was beyond him, even after he murdered his mother. He knew it didn’t matter. Before long he would have his head separated from his body and be taken from the world he knew, thrown into the inky darkness or glorious heavens that awaited him.

  “He claimed, not one, but two lives! The second life that was taken from this world before her time was the life of Ophelia Sedrid, his own mother!”

  Some of the crowd gasped, a conflicted cloud of muttering hanging over the audiences on all sides, while others continued to stare.

  Corsair frowned at the lack of reaction.

  Valour persisted through the chatter, riding the controversy.

  “His mother, a wolf who loved him more than her own life, died as a result of his endless rage! Because she tried to bring him to justice, to bring peace to the family of the deceased, she was killed! Now is the day that Corsair Sedrid pays for his crimes and seeks forgiveness from the departed souls above us in heaven.”

  Valour gradually turned from the onlookers, passing the longsword to the nearest legionnaire. He took it, muttering a New Opulusian phrase to his superior, and took up position on Corsair’s right. The wolf winced as he felt the sword’s edge rest on the back of his neck. His breathing increased and his heart thundered, knowing death was coming up behind him.

  He closed his eyes, squeezing final tears from them.

  “May God forgive your crimes in heaven and may you find the error of your ways after this life!”

  The sword was moved from his neck.

  I’m so sorry, Mum. It’s all my fault this happened.

  “Stop!”

  The cacophony that had built up was torn down by the sudden cry of a voice, one that interrupted the death of the Sedrid lineage. Corsair opened one eye and peered out.

  Alpha Jonah McVarn stood by the line of legionnaires, dressed in Krosguard armour and with gauntleted paw resting on the hilt of his sword. The nearby Opulusians stepped away, swords at the ready, taken aback by the sudden protest.

  “Alpha McVarn, you have no right to be here.”

  The alpha gave a wry laugh.

  “And you have a just reason to kill him? All of you – you’re executing him because it lines up with whatever secret agenda Tiberius has agreed to with your king!”

  “Corsair Sedrid killed Sigil Longvidas, he must pay the‒”

  “We all see through your lies! We see through the lie you, your king and Tiberius are weaving! You stand there, telling us that Corsair killed a legionnaire without saying that Sigil Longvidas was one of many legionnaires who arrested and exiled Ragnar Sedrid because he was framed! This is all orchestrated to get rid of the Sedrid family!”

  The legionnaires looked to Valour, waiting for the command. The doberman stared.

  “McVarn, you need to step back.”

  “And his mother? None of us believe he killed him! We all know it’s something to do with you Opulusians skulking about our clan! Maybe framing Corsair as guilty would allow you to justify his execution without anyone noticing? Maybe it was just another way for Tiberius to gain full control!”

  The crowd began to yell and growl, pushing forward at the legionnaires. The Opulusians were distracted, their attention divided between the agitated crowd and the vocal Krosguard alpha.

  “That’s why you exiled Ragnar! It was a way to get rid of the Sedrids!”

  “If you do not desist we will respond with force!” Valour yelled, following the warning with a command in New Opulusian.

  The legionnaires repeated the order to the civilians, pointing their swords at them to push them back, but the wolves didn’t back down. Some began to back away, sensing some form of conflict was about to break loose, but the majority remained.

  Corsair looked up. The sword was lowered, the legionnaire wary of the situation’s increasing tension.

  “You killed Ophelia!” a voice yelled.

  “Murderer!”

  “Foul mutt!”

  “Death to the mutts!”

  “Death to the mutts!”

  “Death to the mutts!”

  The crowd chanted, the voices coming from all directions. A rock flew out from the seething mass and barely missed a legionnaire.

  “You’ve taken away Ophelia and Ragnar Sedrid! You’ve taken away our control over our own country! You’ve taken away many of our brothers, sisters, wives, husbands and pups to make sure you dominate our clan!”

  Alpha McVarn drew his sword.

  “But you’ll never take away the spirit of the Clan of the Great Lupine!”

  Valour turned.

  “Tu morta!” he yelled, thrusting his paw towards Corsair.

  Corsair gasped as the legionnaire raised the sword, yelling as he did so, when an arrow shot out from the crowd and struck him in the side of the throat. The legionnaire gurgled and choked, throwing the sword down and clutching his neck as he collapsed on to his side.

  “Death to the mutts!”
>
  The crowds pushed forwards, overwhelming the frontline legionnaires and beating them down relentlessly while a barrage of bricks and rocks flew overhead. The Krosguard nearby turned and attacked the canines, slashing at them while driving forwards with the rioting crowds.

  The legionnaire behind Corsair let go of his head and hurried to the side of his companion, placing his paws on the wound. Corsair slumped to the right and landed on his side, grunting as he did so.

  What’s going on?

  He began to push himself up, his muscles burning as he exerted himself, when he saw Valour approaching. Snatching up his longsword as he moved, the dog kicked him in the side and knocked him to the ground. He yelped, trying to get back up, but saw Valour aim his sword for his chest.

  Clang.

  McVarn deflected the blow and knocked the doberman away, turning and hurriedly helping Corsair to his hind paws.

  “You have to run! Keep moving down the path! Don’t…”

  Corsair’s saw Valour running back, swinging as he charged, and the alpha saw this look of terror. McVarn spun around and blocked the swing, fighting back against the doberman and looking over his shoulder once more.

  “Run, son! Run!”

  With a surge of energy, he looked to the east and staggered from the town centre in that direction. Fighting raged around him, groups of civilians pummelling legionnaires while Krosguard soldiers provided armoured assistance to the fight. One saw the approaching wolf and stepped forward, directing him ahead.

  “Keep going! You’ll be safe, just go!”

  He nodded but struggled to persevere, the world around him spinning as he stumbled left and right.

  “Death to the mutts!”

  A legionnaire lost in the chaos grunted as a rock struck him in the side of the head, knocking him down. The crowd set upon him with punches and kicks, some attacking the downed legionnaire with wooden batons.

  A command in New Opulusian echoed across the town centre and, in an instant, the legionnaires retaliated.

  Groups of legionnaires pushed into the crowd, slashing left and right to bring down the rioters. While most of the sword blows cut through the air, threatening enough to send the wolves fleeing, some struck flesh. Howls of anguish filled the air as wolves perished, cut down. Nearby wolves pushed the injured prince past, spurring him through the chaos as their line receded.