The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit

by H. G. Sansostri

  “No. We’re okay.”

  Nodding in agreement, the apothecary eased Arwenin to a halt. Corsair, grunting as he pulled on the reins, brought Quickpaw to a stop. Harangoth trotted forwards a further step before he fell down into the snow on his front, his body heaving with every breath.

  “You did good, guys,” Axel said, dropping down and removing his helmet. “You got us out of there alive. Take a break.”

  All the ictharrs, including the ones belonging to the Krosguard soldiers that followed, groaned in response before lying down in the snow. Rohesia stepped out of Quickpaw’s saddle, scanning the area around her as she did so. They were on a long snowy road flanked by two walls of trees, acting as barriers to prevent them careening off.

  “We’re safe, Corsair. We lost them.”

  She expected some response, a ‘yes’ or a mumble, but she heard nothing.

  She turned.

  Corsair was slumped forwards in the saddle, raking in breath as if he was struggling to breathe, viciously trembling as the cold snapped its jaws at him. The only protection he had was the spare cloaks they had thrown over him, all threadbare and thin. Quickpaw could sense how fragile his master was, giving Rohesia a look of concern.

  “Corsair?”

  She placed a paw on his shoulder and almost yanked it away. The wolf was freezing, jittering frantically as he clutched the reins. His green eyes stared forwards, focused on something in the distance, but when Rohesia followed his gaze she saw nothing.

  “Axel?”

  Then she felt him slump against her and fall from one side of Quickpaw. Rohesia caught him in her arms and lowered him down, feeling his body shudder and quiver in her paws. Fogged breath plumed out from his maw like smoke from a fire.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Axel said.

  “He’s really cold!” Rohesia said.

  The apothecary rushed over, the two soldiers following. They all knelt beside the prince, clamouring over him while allowing space to give the medical expert access.

  “He needs another cloak. Take yours off, Rohesia.”

  The archer hurriedly tore her cloak from her and wrapped it over Corsair’s shivering body. He winced as her paw came against the numerous bruises laid out across his trembling frame.

  “What’s wrong with him?” a soldier asked.

  “He’s in shock. It’s the cold – we’ve been riding with him almost naked. Cloaks can only do so much.”

  “We didn’t bring spare clothes?” another said.

  “I didn’t know the bastards were gonna strip him down and cover him in water.”

  Axel rested a paw on his cloaked shoulder, leaning in.

  “Corsair, listen to me. You’re going to be okay, all right? You’re just cold, that’s it. We’re going to get you warm and find somewhere to rest.”

  Corsair tried to speak, opening his mouth an inch, before that determination was blown away by the wind.

  “What?” Rohesia said, leaning in.

  “I think… I-I… am… dying…”

  “You’re not dying, buddy,” Axel said. “You hear me? Don’t quit on us now – we’ve come all this way.”

  “I’m… s-so… cold…”

  “Get him up against Quickpaw, come on!”

  They all eased him up despite his yelps of pained protest and guided him over to his steed, laying him down by Quickpaw’s side. Quickpaw growled in concern for his master, shuffling over to shield him with his white fur.

  “He’ll be okay, right?” Rohesia asked.

  “We need to keep him warm,” Axel said. “How we’re going to keep moving when he has no clothes, I don’t know.”

  “We could carry him into the trees,” one soldier said.

  “Maybe. But we need to find something quick. This cold is freezing enough to…”

  Axel didn’t say it, conscious of Corsair hearing him.

  “Regardless of our position, we need to find a way to shield him from the cold. It won’t be comfortable but… I’ll take off my armour and give it to him. He’ll at least be covered that way.”

  “Are you sure?” another soldier said. “I can do it.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I let you do it. Don’t worry – as much as I hate this weather, I can survive it.”

  Axel stood, reaching for his breastplate to tear off, before all the wolves’ ears stood to attention. Ictharrs and lupines alike looked down the road, eyes peering through the snowy barrage.

  The shape of a figure could be discerned in the distance, moving towards them, waving and yelling frantically for help.

  “Help us! Help!”

  “Who’s that?” a soldier said.

  “Not someone we know,” Axel said, moving his paws from his chest to the grip of his sword.

  Rohesia stood, signalling for the soldiers to stay by Corsair’s side, and drew her dagger from her belt. Her bow could only sit over her shoulder idly, acting as a mere bystander beside her empty quiver.

  “Hey! You okay over there?” Axel yelled to them, metres ahead of Rohesia.

  “You need to help me! My husband, my husband… oh, God, why?”

  “What’s happened to your husband?”

  “I require assistance, please! Come over here!”

  The figure drew closer, beckoning for the wolf to approach them. Axel stepped back, drawing his sword.

  “Hey, hey, keep your distance!”

  The figure came to a stop.

  “Tell me what’s happened to your husband if you want me to help you! If he’s hurt, I can heal him!”

  “He is injured terribly! You must aid him or he shall perish!”

  “What happened?”

  Something twitched in the trees to Rohesia’s right.

  She turned her head, eyes focused on the space where she thought she saw something flicker. Concentrating her gaze on the spot, she saw that nothing stirred.

  It’s the snow.

  Then she saw a shadow flicker to her left.

  She took a step back, looking over her shoulder. The two soldiers had noticed the same movement as well, peering into the forest with paws resting on the grips of their sheathed swords. Corsair remained curled up by Quickpaw’s side, somewhat sheltered from the snow. All the ictharrs looked at the left side of the road, gazing into the bushes.

  Harangoth, the closest ictharr, snarled and stood. He backed away, sensing something inside the snowy foliage.

  “Axel!”

  The apothecary looked over his shoulder. His eyes fell upon the sight of Harangoth growling at the woods to the left, fixated on a presence they couldn’t sense. He looked back to the figure, drawing his sword.

  “Come a step closer and I’ll cut you down, you hear me? Quit whatever it is you’re doing and turn around!”

  Before the figure could react, Rohesia heard a chilling cry of anger come from behind her. She spun, swinging her dagger as she turned, but the blade deflected off the sturdy armour of the charging figure. Rohesia couldn’t dodge out the way and was knocked down to the ground, her dagger flying from her paws.

  “Ambush!”

  “It’s an ambush!”

  Screams arose from all sides, figures breaking from the trees and charging out into the open space of the snowy road. Rohesia reached for her dagger but felt a metal hind paw pin her arm down, leaving her helpless.

  “I advise you not to retaliate,” they said in an accented voice.

  She growled and looked up into the mask of the tall warrior. The armoured figure wielded a massive war hammer with ornate designs along the metal shaft and hammer head. Powerful eyes met hers through the holes in the mask, confronting Rohesia’s defensive glare, and the archer couldn’t help but look away.

  “Get off me!” Axel yelled, being tackled to the ground by several attackers. “What the hell is this? Who the hell‒”

  “Shut it!”

  A perimeter formed around the stalled convoy. The attackers closed in on the ictharrs, aiming an arsenal of weapons at
the steeds. Harangoth backed up towards Quickpaw, turning his head left and right to deter the approaching threats. Arwenin rushed to Quickpaw’s side, standing her ground and baring her fangs at the enemy. Harangoth and Arwenin defended Quickpaw and his wounded master, snarling. Quickpaw lay there, craning his head down over his master as if he was protecting his young. The two soldiers took up positions alongside the steeds, drawing their swords.

  “Tell these lot to turn on to their backs or I’ll kill them!” one bandit yelled with the same accent as the armoured soldier, readying her spear.

  “Don’t touch him! Hurt them and I’ll kill you!”

  “I said tell them to get on to their backs and not to move!”

  Rohesia saw how outnumbered they all were. Dozens of people had poured from the gaps between the trees, armed to the teeth with protective armour and weaponry. Some were mounted on ictharrs of their own, aiming bows and crossbows at the cornered wolves. Despite their ferocity, the ictharrs would all be slain regardless of how valiantly they defended Corsair.

  “I recommend you listen to him,” the tall warrior said. “We will use force if necessary.”

  Grudgingly, she did as she was told.

  “Harangoth, Quickpaw! Everyone, on your backs!”

  The ictharrs questioned her decision with inquisitive growls, tilting their heads. Harangoth puffed out air through his flared nostrils, preparing to charge at the attackers.

  “Listen to me and get on to your backs! Do it!”

  “Do it, Arwie!” Axel yelled.

  Submitting, Arwenin lowered herself down and rolled on to her back, paws dangling limp in the air. The two other ictharrs, growling, followed suit, their owners lowering their swords and putting their paws up in the air. Quickpaw whimpered, glancing down at Corsair’s shivering form, before he did the same.

  Harangoth lingered, fangs bared.

  “Harangoth!”

  He growled, telling the archer to shut up.

  “They’ll kill you, stop!”

  Quickpaw yapped at him, trying to convince the behemoth, but he didn’t listen. With a roar, Harangoth lunged forwards at the perimeter, hurling himself at the sharpened tips of swords and spears that awaited him.

  “Harangoth!”

  There was the snap of a crossbow firing before a net shot out and wrapped around his paws, binding them together. The net threw him off his lunge entirely, causing him to land short of the vast array of weaponry aimed at him. He landed on his side, confused as to how he had missed, and didn’t have time to fight back as the bandits leapt on him.

  “Pin him!”

  “Get the muzzle!”

  While 10 bandits held Harangoth down, one unclipped a large muzzle from his belt and knelt in front of the beast. With a snap, he clamped the muzzle down over the ferocious ictharr’s maw and stepped back, watching him writhe on the ground to resist the hold of the restraints. Seconds passed before Harangoth gave up trying, lying still in the snow while growling at his captors.

  Rohesia looked in the direction of where the shot came from.

  A figure, swathed in a brown hooded cloak like the tall warrior’s, approached. The bottom of the cloak was torn and ripped. Rohesia caught a glimpse of a canine adorned in blackened Opulusian legionnaire armour. There were numerous scratches and dents in the plating, particularly over the abdominal area, which had been left as souvenirs from blades and arrows. An unusual contraption akin to a crossbow sat in his paws, larger and loaded with a different kind of ammunition.

  “Get that wolf up!”

  While the other bandits tied the four paws of the other ictharrs together, restraining them, two grabbed Corsair by the arms and dragged him away from Quickpaw. Quickpaw growled, glaring.

  “Hurt him and I’ll kill you!” Rohesia yelled.

  “Rather unlikely,” the tall warrior said.

  They moved his hind paw off her, using their free paw to pull her up. Restrained and unable to fight back against the warrior’s strength, she was guided into the middle of the open road where Axel and the rest of the wolves were already held captive, kneeling in the snow with brigands looming behind them.

  “Apologies.”

  The tower of metal shoved her down and she growled. Rohesia couldn’t even attempt to get up before two of the mysterious attackers grabbed her and held her there, keeping her on her knees.

  “Move it, wolf!”

  Rohesia looked right to see the two bandits guiding Corsair towards them. The brigands’ paws were the only things stopping him from falling, his legs rendered unreliable from the harsh bruising.

  “We ain’t got all day, pal!”

  They shoved him down hard and Corsair didn’t have the strength to balance himself. He fell on to his side, shivering with nothing but his undergarments and a few cloaks to shield him against the cold.

  “Hey, stop that!” Rohesia yelled. “He’s hurt!”

  “Shut up!” the guards behind her ordered, shaking her.

  Rohesia obeyed but kept her eyes on Corsair, ready to intervene if necessary. Two brigands brought him on to his knees, holding him up. His head drooped and one of the duo forced their other paw under his snout, holding his head. Eyes barely open, Corsair was on the verge of passing out, trembling from the cold.

  “You need to keep him warm, he’s‒”

  The guard smacked Rohesia on the back of the head hard and she yelped, leaning forwards to move her head away. The duo yanked her back up and held her there, forcing a paw beneath her snout.

  She could see that the rest of the ambushers had formed a small group opposite them, with both the crossbow-wielding canine and hammer-carrying juggernaut at the front. She noticed that each bandit had a metal plate on their shoulder painted blue, a uniform characteristic among all their differing armours and appearances. It was that sense of uniformity among bandits that struck her.

  What kind of group of bandits is this? And this far into the clan?

  She began to notice something else. Despite the array of masks, made of both metal and fabric, she saw felines standing before her. All of them spoke with the same accent and muttered to one another in the same tongue – most likely Sikkharan.

  Are these Silverclaw thugs?

  The juggernaut glanced to the right and then turned to face the crowd, silencing them with a mighty roar.

  “Silence for Lady Riskar!”

  It was eerie how quickly silence fell upon the crowds. All the bandits looked to Rohesia’s left, and the archer followed their eyes to the approaching figure.

  The individual that had been calling for help sauntered down the space between the hostages and the ambushers. Rohesia was close enough to see that Lady Riskar was a small-eared grey cat. A blue gown of some fabric engulfed her, swishing with every step she took and, where the dress was tight around the waist, Rohesia could see a rapier dangling from the belt, well-kept and polished. Lady Riskar gave off an air of authority, potent enough to quell the rowdiness of the bandits in the crowd.

  She stopped before the five hostages and let the silence rule for a moment, casting her gaze from one end of the line to the other before turning around to her band of criminals. She then cast her gaze over to the five restrained ictharrs lying on their backs, eyes focused on her.

  “Well, this is most certainly a disappointing haul,” she said with that same Sikkharan accent. “Nothing else? No supplies?”

  “Naught of what was expected, Milady,” the juggernaut said. “Five riders and five ictharr steeds.”

  She tutted.

  “Well, this just shall not do. Why would the clan even send a group out here with no supplies? It seems a rather pointless venture.”

  She pointed to Corsair on Rohesia’s right.

  “And what is the value of sheltering a homeless wolf?”

  A chuckle rose among the crowd, one which Axel interrupted.

  “And what about it?”

  “Hey, shut it!”

  One of the guards drew a dagger and presse
d it against his throat, making him lean back to alleviate the pressure on his neck. Lady Riskar came forward, kneeling in front of him.

  “Would you care to tell me why you are journeying north?”

  Axel panted. The guard pushed the blade further, making him yelp.

  “Well, maybe I could say something if touchy-feely here got the knife away from my throat!”

  “Ah, how rude of me. Kilik?”

  The bandit removed the blade and Axel let out a gasp for air, leaning forward with a paw against his throat.

  “Is that better, darling?”

  Axel didn’t answer, blinking as he desperately tried to come up with a believable lie.

  “Would you care to answer me now?”

  “We’re… we’re traders.”

  “Traders? Without supplies or a carriage?”

  “Yeah. We sold all of it. Sold all our produce in Grand Wolf Plains.”

  “My, you are most certainly prepared to trade, aren’t you?”

  Lady Riskar tapped the plating of his armour, panic rising in the wolf’s eyes. Axel hurried to answer.

  “It’s for protection‒”

  “Kilik?”

  Lady Riskar got up and Kilik brought Axel’s head back, pressing the knife against his throat again. He growled, swearing under his breath as the cat moved on to Rohesia.

  She snarled at her.

  “Oh my! How terribly defensive you are. Little pup far from home?”

  Another chuckle arose from the crowd, the bandits watching as their leader toyed with their captives. Rohesia remained silent, knowing it was better not to talk.

  “Care to suggest a reason as to why you are heading north?”

  She did not answer.

  “Darling, refusing to speak shall not help you.”

  She did not say a word.

  “I must admit, it is adorable that you are so determined to serve this vow of silence.”

  The cat ruffled the fur on Rohesia’s head and Rohesia resisted the urge to bite her, knowing that she would only end up in a more uncomfortable situation than she was already in. Lady Riskar moved on towards Corsair, whose eyes were barely open.

  “A drunkard? A drifter? What is his purpose out here?”

  “We picked him up. We were taking him north to his family,” Axel groaned.