First Draw

by Tim Moon

  “What’s your problem, man?” Jaron shouted at the alpha.

  The remaining wolves split into two groups of two. They quickly reached the earthen wall. One group paced the length of the wall, obviously searching for a way up, while the others began to dig. Soon, all four were digging to collapse the wall.

  Jaron marveled at their problem-solving ability, which underscored the obvious point that these were no ordinary wolves. A significant amount of dirt blocked the summit, so he had a few moments. A small voice told him to get his ass moving while another voice told him to take advantage of their distraction.

  Jaron remembered his early idea and picked up a baseball sized rock. He tossed it in his hand, testing the weight as he eyed the distance again. He had an elevated position and was flanking the wolves. With a scowl at the thought of stoning a dog, he reminded himself that these were big, vicious wolves with plate armor heads and long fangs. He hurled the rock and watched it sail through the air.

  It flew in a low arc, spinning like a baseball. It whizzed overhead, clipping the ear of one wolf and hit the dirt just above it. The creature yelped and leaped backwards, dodging the ricochet. The rock rolled downhill, falling into the pit he made.

  The digging group halted for a fraction of a second before restarting with extra vigor. Riding the ego boost provided by his near hit, Jaron hurled another rock and was rewarded with a satisfying snap and howl of pain. One of the wolves dropped to its haunches. Its back leg bent at an odd angle that sent a jolt of regret through him. The wolf hobbled away, dragging its broken leg and whining pitifully.

  Jaron was on a roll, but he could tell that their digging would succeed before he could cripple or kill all of them. He hurled one more stone. This one was aimed at the alpha. It dodged aside at the last second to avoid the crushing blow. Jaron scowled as he turned away from the cliff to flee the dangerous animals.

  Live to fight another day and all that, he thought.

  28

  Jaron ran close to a mile along the ridge before his stamina depleted and he was forced to rest. Several times along the way he glimpsed movement in the forest below. Not a dread wolf, it was far too small, but something trailed him. The possibility of a new threat made his chest tighten. Every time he stopped to get a good look, he lost sight of it.

  Could it be a magical ability of the dread wolves? Some kind of spirit wolf spell or something? Jaron’s head tilted to the side as he considered the questions.

  Although none of the wolves were in sight, they were on his tail. The determination in the alpha’s eyes had proved beyond a doubt that this fight wouldn’t be over until one of them were dead. Why an animal would care about killing him so much was beyond his comprehension. Surely there was easier prey. At this point, it felt personal. In any case, Jaron intended to prevail.

  Jaron stopped to rest again. He rested his hands over his head and took deep breaths, trying to slow his heart rate. The yellow stamina bar began to slowly creep back up. Rifling through his backpack, he took out his last piece of wolf jerky and began to gnaw on it. A boulder seemed to beckon him over. Jaron plopped down, giving his legs a rest. His eyes widened with surprise as his stamina appeared to regenerate even quicker while sitting.

  It did highlight the fact that Jaron lacked a lot of knowledge about this world. Little tricks like sitting to regenerate faster could be easily missed, yet they could also have a profound effect on his success. Many aspects of the game were like those he played as a young man but enough of the mechanics were different that he couldn’t be sure what rules applied.

  Jaron wiped sweat off his nose. Were all wolves in Drezkarn known as dread wolves? Or were these simply an evil variant? Jaron shook his head. When he found Cyprus again, he planned to glean as much information as he could get from his friend.

  Jaron understood now what life on Earth had been like before the ultranet and its predecessor the internet. During the dark grind of the Necrose Wars, people had neither. All their information came from experience, books and word of mouth. That’s how it was here. Jaron would have to learn things the old-fashioned way.

  Dark shapes moving towards him along the ridge prompted a curse. Thankfully, his stamina had climbed to 70%, which wasn’t bad. He hopped up and continued to flee. He wouldn’t be able to run forever.

  The dread wolves began to gain on him quickly. They were sure footed and agile while the rocky ground worked against Jaron. His elven body wasn’t made for this kind of terrain, not barefoot anyway. He was better suited to moving through the forest.

  Jaron felt their eyes locked on him, heard their nails clicking against the stone and the hunger in their growls. He imagined that he could almost feel the heat of their breaths on his back. It spurred him on and made Jaron run like he had never run before. Desperation forced him beyond the lactic acid threshold.

  Ahead was a rock outcrop that climbed eight feet into the air. If he could scale it in time, Jaron would have the advantage of elevation and could possibly pick them off one at a time. When he got closer, Jaron skidded to a stop.

  “Ohhhhh, god!” he shouted with a gut churning surge of vertigo.

  A gaping chasm separated him from the outcrop. There was a ledge about four feet below him on the far side. But if he wanted to reach it, Jaron would have to leap a roughly ten-foot span.

  Normally, jumping ten feet across to a lower platform shouldn’t be terribly difficult especially with a running start. Doing it barefoot on a narrow, rocky ridge over a chasm that would surely kill him if he made the slightest mistake was another matter. His head snapped left and right, searching for an alternative way to cross. All he saw were options that ranged from worse to fuck my life.

  The click of toenails on rock and the heaving breaths of running canines drawing closer added to the urgency rising in his chest. A quick glance over his shoulder forced his hand.

  Cursing his luck, Jaron had no choice but to attempt the leap.

  Jaron backed away from the ledge, picked his landing zone and braced himself for what was sure to be the last jump of his life. Snarling wolves raced ever closer.

  Taking a deep breath to gather his courage, Jaron sprinted towards the edge.

  Arms pumping, legs churning, and eyes widening in primal fear, Jaron hurled himself across the chasm. Time slowed as he flew, his arms and legs continuing to pump to keep balance. A shout of fright broke free and for a second Jaron thought his heart was about to say fuck it all and leap out of his mouth. Air whistled in his ears as his stomach lurched at the deep void beneath him. Then the world snapped back to full speed and he crash landed on the cold, hard stone with a grunt.

  The wind left Jaron’s chest as his body skidded across the dirt, scraping away layers of skin. He came to an abrupt stop when his shoulder and back slammed into the base of an outcrop. His head hung over the edge of a cliff that dropped away at least thirty feet.

  Blinking away stars, Jaron slowly rolled away from the edge and gasped for breath. His eyes watered with the effort. Blood seeped from various abrasions on his knees, elbows and shoulder. His whole body ached. But he was alive!

  When Jaron could breathe again, he scrambled frantically for his spear and braced for an attack. The wolves stood panting on the ledge across the chasm, glaring at him. They looked unsure about reenacting his flight.

  Pulling himself to his feet, Jaron let out a whoop of joy at being alive. His body shuttered with pain and the whoop devolved into a coughing fit, but as the old saying went — pain reminds you that you’re alive. He could accept that.

  One of the wolves staring at him threw back its head and howled. Jaron hefted a handful of gravel and threw it at them.

  The howl cut off as the rocks pelted them. Only its lightning quick reaction let one of them dodge the projectiles. Its companion shook its head and growled at Jaron with bare teeth and began to pace along the edge of the cliff.

  Jaron kept a wary eye on the pair as he dusted himself off and checked his gear and injuries. All hi
s wounds were superficial, nothing more than scrapes and bruises. His gear was intact and where it should be, so he turned his attention to the rocks to find a way to climb off the ledge in case a wolf managed to jump the chasm.

  A deep growling bark made Jaron turn. The alpha had arrived and stared hard into his eyes, puffing out its chest as they glared at each other. Jaron thought it was odd behavior, but what really caught his attention was the depth of emotion in the alpha’s eyes.

  Jaron sneered at the dread wolf alpha and removed his backpack. Enough was enough. He held the advantage here and if the alpha was dumb enough to send his pack over the edge then he would see to it they took a one-way flight to the bottom of the chasm. Free of charge. He refused to keep running from these fuckers.

  The alpha stood his ground and barked orders at the pack. Jaron cast stone spike and once again pierced the alpha’s leg. It yelped and growled, snapping its powerful jaws at the stone until it freed its leg.

  Jaron ignored the commotion as he began to cast putrid mud. A second later, a three-foot wide strip of mud replaced the stone along the edge of the cliff. The wolves began to sink into the quagmire. One toppled over the edge. The alpha growled at Jaron before turning to free itself from his spell.

  Pushing his advantage, Jaron cast stone spike again. The spell pierced the chest of a wolf climbing out of the mud right behind the alpha. It cried out in pain and thrashed wildly, unable to free itself.

  Jaron cursed at a wolf with gray streaks that had bitten the nape of the alpha’s neck to pull him out of the mud as he cast the spell. The alpha nuzzled the wolf in thanks and then turned to face him with bared teeth. Jaron hurled more rocks while he waited out the agonizingly long five second cooldown on stone spike. Two rocks went over the wolve’s heads and one stuck in the mud.

  Right as Jaron was cocking his arm back to throw another rock, the gray streaked wolf appeared again, leaping towards him with its glistening white fangs bared.

  “Shiiit!” Jaron dropped the stone with barely enough time for him to crouch and raise his spear before they collided.

  The spear pierced the wolf’s rib cage and burst from its back as they collapsed onto the stone ledge in a heap. Jaron looked into the eyes of his attacker. The wolf’s face was contorted in pain. Soft whimpers escaped its muzzle before the pupils widened and went blank. Jaron shoved the body off him and stood. He grabbed the spear with both hands and hefted the creature into the air.

  Blood dripped off the fur to splat on the rocks as Jaron held it aloft. The other wolves glared at him with fire burning in their dark eyes. The alpha most of all.

  “Come get some, motherfucker!” Jaron shouted at the alpha. It was beyond time to end this.

  He flung the carcass over the edge and began to cast. This time he imagined the spike driving straight up from the ground. He had learned long ago that the quickest way to end a fight, was to take out the biggest guy. The alpha hopped to the side narrowly dodging the stone that barely brushed his fur.

  Jaron’s frustration at the miss required physical exertion. He picked up a handful of stones and began to hurl them at the wolves again. The first throw went too high while the second bounced off the head of the last wolf climbing out of the mud.

  Another wolf appeared to be gauging the distance for another jump. Jaron targeted it and began pelting him with rocks. A fist-sized rock struck it on the head with a crack against the bone plate on its forehead. For a second, the wolf’s body stiffened and then its front legs buckled. It slid forward and began to sink into the mud pit.

  The alpha must have an amazing regenerative ability because the proud beast came trotting back with a hateful gaze directed at Jaron. Just as it had before, the alpha barked at his pack. The final pair of wolves stood in a line, snarling and snapping their jaws at Jaron. It was an intimidating and unnerving show of unity. As one, the two wolves threw their heads back and howled. The alpha added his voice last. Distant calls echoed back from the few left down near the stream.

  The pack’s voices died off and the pair charged the cliff.

  “Shiiit!” Jaron shouted again. He braced for a fight to the death.

  There was no time to retrieve the spear, so he drew the cutlass. A furious ball of fur crashed into him before the blade fully cleared the scabbard. Its teeth sunk into his forearm eliciting a different kind of howl. The sword clattered to the ground as the weight of the dread wolf pulled him to the ground. Jaron landed on top and began to pummel the ugly beast, careful to avoid the thick bone plates on their forehead.

  Jaron’s health, mana and stamina all dipped. The bite brought him down to just 50% health. He didn’t try to pull his arm free because that would only make the injury worse and possibly induce a bleeding status. Instead, he used it as leverage and shoved the wolf’s head to the ground, put a knee on its chest and cast stone spike yet again. A 12-inch stone spear entered the back of its skull and erupted from its eye socket, bursting the orb and sending blood and fluid splashing onto Jaron’s face. The body convulsed a few times before going limp.

  The jaws went slack, allowing Jaron to free his arm and roll away, groaning. His arm felt like it was on fire as blood poured out but not so much that it indicated a nicked or severed artery. Still, there was a chance he could bleed out. The 50 XP was small consolation for what it took to earn.

  Jaron stood, gritting his teeth against the pain. He spun quickly, searching for the second wolf but didn’t see it. He looked over the edge and a feral grin came unbidden to his lips.

  One enemy remained.

  The alpha.

  Jaron retrieved his cutlass and eyed the dread wolf. It stepped forward, standing on the body of the wolf sinking into the mud pit for support. Jaron raised an eyebrow at what he saw. Its front paw was a mangled mess of fractured bone and torn muscle.

  Shaking his head slowly, Jaron could hardly believe the alpha could stand as if he were returning from a Sunday stroll. Jaron had to admit the alpha had spirit. It stood proud, despite its injury and despite the loss of his pack.

  “Why?” Jaron asked himself. Then he met the alpha’s eyes, threw an arm out in question and raised his voice. “Why?”

  The alpha backed up a few paces and snarled at him.

  With a quick gesture and word of power that flowed seamlessly, Jaron sent another stone spike at the wolf to cripple it further. The alpha charged in the blink of an eye and his spike was left standing alone on the ridge. The alpha moved so quick, he blinked in surprise.

  The giant fur missile launched itself at him with teeth bared. Jaron’s eyes widened again, and his body tensed. Did the alpha really think he would have better luck than his companions?

  The dread wolf soared through the air. Jaron pivoted out of the way at the last second. The alpha landed with a growl. Its nails scraped against the stone, slowing it down. Jaron swung the cutlass but missed when the wolf tumbled and rolled across the ground. It stood and shook off the rough landing. With a deep, rumbling growl, the alpha limped forward a couple of steps and barked at him.

  Jaron licked his lips in anticipation, nearly forgetting to cast stone buckler. Apparently sensing the magic, the alpha charged but swung wide in a half circle that forced Jaron to turn.

  Somehow the spell failed. A jolt of electric energy seized Jaron’s body. It lasted only a fraction of a second, yet he still staggered and barely managed to stay on his feet. Sensing the weakness, the alpha tried to capitalize by lunging at him. Jaron slashed at the alpha and missed by a good margin when the wolf dodged aside. They circled and sized each other up. Both were tired, bleeding, and alone.

  Juking left, Jaron lunged to the right. He barely nicked the wolf, opening a small gash on its shoulder. The alpha snapped its jaws at him. Jaron raised his arm and the buckler smashed it in the face. The wolf’s head snapped down and nipped the edge of his loincloth. Jaron punched the wolf in the face and slashed at its flank as it tugged on his only piece of clothing.

  Jaron hit the alpha in the head aga
in with a jarring blow that struck its bone plates. With shocking speed considering its injured leg, the alpha darted to the side out of range. It shook its head and snarled at Jaron.

  Growling in frustration, Jaron cast stone spike to one side of the wolf and attacked the other way only to find the dread wolf had leaped straight at him. The pair went down in a pile of flailing limbs, bared teeth, and bad intentions. The cutlass skidded away with a deafening clatter.

  Claws raked Jaron’s bare stomach and thighs while he gripped the wolf’s throat and squeezed. They writhed on the ground, each one searching for an opening. Jaron leaned back to avoid having his nose bit off and stared wide-eyed at the teeth that clacked shut an inch from his face.

  Jaron squeezed hard, trying to rip out the canine’s throat. The alpha gagged and tried to scramble away, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead, Jaron grabbed a handful of its neck fur with his other hand and pulled the alpha back into the fight. He wrapped his legs around the wolf’s rib cage making sure to cross his ankles and lock in a good grip. The alpha pulled its head back and then jerked forward, catching Jaron on the chin with incredible force.

  It felt like a real possibility that his jaw shattered, and all his teeth were pulverized into dust. Stars twinkled in Jaron’s vision and his grip loosened. The alpha tried to pull free again. He wriggled out an inch or two. Jaron’s leg, arm and face were deep wells of agony but his will was titanium; he wasn’t going to lose this fight.

  Jaron dropped a hammer fist on the alpha’s snout and grabbed an ear to pull him close. The wolf yelped and snapped at his wrist. Jaron twisted his arm out of the way and then yanked with all his strength. The flesh holding the ear to the dread wolf’s skull stretched and then tore with a sickening ripping sound. The big flap of cartilage came off in a bloody mess that he flicked away.

  They rolled again. Blood dripped and splattered over Jaron’s chest and face. The wolf was desperately pulling its head away now, and its clawed feet were doing a number to the back of his thighs.