by Kody Boye
Before him, Carmen rose to her feet just in time for the werewolf to stalk forward on all fours.
“Nuh uh,” she said, twirling her mace at her side. “You’re not going anywhere, buddy.”
The creature howled.
Carmen slammed her mace forward and struck the creature in the side of the face.
A fresh howl torn from its throat and slicing the air like a dagger, the werewolf rose on its back feet, stumbled back, then threw itself toward Carmen.
Nova tightened his hand around the scythe.
No.
Carmen struck the creature in the groin and punched it square in the snout.
A squeal emanated from the broken remnants of its jaw just before its claws came barreling down upon Carmen.
The Dwarf cried out.
Though she did not scream, and though he saw her lost beneath the creature’s blatant form, Nova pushed himself up and flung the blunt edge of his scythe into the creature’s lower jaw.
The creature’s head snapped up.
Carmen thrust her mace into its throat.
The werewolf screamed.
When steady and on his feet, Nova pressed the majority of his weight into his outstretched arms and watched Carmen stumble back and at his side.
“It’s not going to go away,” she said, panting, the breath rushing in and out of her chest as though wind on a harsh winter’s day. “Are you all right?”
“Hurt.”
“What?”
“Back. Chest.”
“Did it get you a second time?”
“Armor. Can’t. breathe.”
“Let me take it,” Carmen said, taking another step forward.
“No,” Nova gasped. “You can’t.”
The creature pulled its claws away from its face to regard them for just one moment before it turned and disappeared into the darkness.
“Where’d it go?” he asked, finally able to gain somewhat of a normal breathing routine.
“I don’t know,” Carmen said, “but I’m not waiting to find out.”
They assembled at the side of the road a campsite which could be described as ramshackle and without any concrete form. A rock poised at the side of wet kindling, a mace coming repeatedly down, Carmen tried to make fire in what seemed like a hopeless situation while Nova sat shirtless with his scythe over his lap and waited for the creature to gain its courage and come back once more.
I can’t believe it, he thought, laughing, unable to contain the hysterics that rose and echoed from his chest. I can’t fucking believe it.
Of all things to start their trip, they had to be attacked by a werewolf.
“I didn’t know they existed,” Carmen said, continuing to strike her mace down upon the stone. “I thought they were just legend.”
“What were you thinking?” Nova laughed. “That they were men that could turn into wolves?”
“That was the common conception in the mountains. Hell—we knew Drakes and Angels existed, but not werewolves. Then again, you can’t necessarily blame us. We do, after all, live well away from the forest.”
Far enough to where you don’t have to deal with this kind of bullshit.
Sighing, he resisted the urge to reach back and fondle the bruised and broken skin on in his back. The pressure of the werewolf’s attack had been one thing, but falling and landing on his armor at a high speed? That was another.
Carmen slammed her mace down onto the rock.
A spark flew from the stone and into the pile of wet kindling.
“Come on,” the Dwarf said, leaning forward and blowing on the flame. “Come on… come on… come…”
The spark flickered and died before them.
“This isn’t going to work,” she sighed, reaching up to run a hand across her brow.
“We need to get a fire going. It’s the only way we’re going to keep the animals away from us.”
“We can’t do much about it now.”
“I know, but…” Nova paused. He raised his eyes and surveyed the surroundings. “Can I be honest?”
“Yes.”
“I’m animal food.”
“What?”
“My blood. They can probably smell it a league away.”
“There isn’t a whole lot I can do without any supplies,” she sighed. “If only we had the horse.”
“I only threw ourselves off it to protect ourselves.”
“I know. You made the right decision, Nova. That ugly mother would’ve chased us down and ran the horse right into the ground.”
All of our supplies, he thought. Our food.
It would be the wild man’s way from here on out, whether they liked it or not.
Reaching down, he took his jerkin within his hands, poised the blade of his scythe against the bottom of his boot, then slowly began to cut sections out of it from front to back until they resembled something like bandages. “Carmen,” he grunted. “Can you see in this light?”
“A little, yes.”
“Good enough so you can bandage my back?”
“I can try,” the Dwarf said. “Question, though: what’re we gonna do if we can’t start a fire?”
“I guess keep going,” he sighed, bowing his head when the Dwarf made her way around his back and began to assemble the strips of cloth and leather against his back. He grimaced when she applied pressure to one of the more severe tears. “Ouch. That hurts.”
“Sorry. Not much I can do about it.”
“Yeah, I know.”
When Carmen finished arranging the bandages across his back and securing them around his arms and over his chest, Nova leaned forward and began to blow on the individual pieces of kindling in an attempt to dry them. Though his pursuit was likely without any true gain, the fact that he was doing something rather than sitting around made him feel much better about their current situation.
Here they were, in the middle of the wilderness, trapped without supplies and possibly being hunted by a werewolf.
Great, he thought. Just great.
Carmen settled down beside him, crossed her legs, then reached out and took his hand. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “I know it will.”
“Can you be sure of that?”
“Not particularly, but we might as well hope, right?”
Though his conscience did little to ease his worries, he couldn’t agree more.
They alternated shifts that night to watch for the werewolf and to attempt to light the fire. His thoughts so erratic that he could hardly even concentrate and the wounds on his back flaring up every few moments, Nova found it almost impossible to concentrate as he continued to rub the kindling across his trousers in an attempt to dry it. He did this for what seemed like hours before he took Carmen’s mace in hand and once more began to strike metal against rock.
Come on, he thought, striking the stone again and again as if it bore no consequence to their safety or location. Come on you stupid motherfucker. Light, light!
Unable to contain his frustration, Nova slammed the mace into the ground at his side and reached up to tangle his hands within his hair.
It was no use.
They would have to sit up all night without any warmth or light.
This is all your fault, he thought, pursing his lips and somehow resisting the urge to sink his teeth into them. If you wouldn’t’ve gotten a wild hair up your ass and thrown yourself off that damn horse—
“Then we wouldn’t be in this situation,” he mumbled. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m the biggest fucking idiot on the face of the earth.”
“Hmm?” Carmen asked, shifting in her place next to him.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“Any luck getting the fire started?”
“No. I stopped trying.”
“Why?”
“Because it wasn’t any use.”
“Is the kindling even dry?”
“Honestly, Carmen, I don’t think there’s any way we can even begin to make it dry.”
&
nbsp; “I don’t know what to say,” the Dwarf sighed. “I guess we’re sitting awake in the dark then.”
“Yeah,” Nova said. “I guess we are.”
It seemed impossible to remain awake and alert in absolute darkness. Normally, when bathed in light and allowed to see the scenery, one would automatically assume that the mind’s natural inclination to sleep would be overridden and completely subjugated to remain awake regardless of any other inclination. However, without that light, one could only begin to fade away, which is what Nova began to do when he felt his head dipping and his eyes sagging shut.
You can stay awake, he thought. Come on. You can do it.
It seemed no matter how hard he tried, no matter how desperately he willed himself to remain conscious, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Did it really matter if he and Carmen fell asleep?
Would the werewolf come back?
You know it will, his conscience whispered. It’s watching, waiting. It wants to eat your guts right out of your writhing body.
“Fuck you,” he whispered. “Fuck… you.”
A crack sounded from the tree line.
His head shot up.
“Carmen,” he said, reaching over to shake the Dwarf awake. “Wake up, wake up.”
“What?”
“I think it’s back.”
“I’ll teach it to mess with us,” the Dwarf said, feebly reaching in the dark for her weapon. “Where’s my mace?”
“Here.” He tossed it on the ground beside her.
Carmen rose to her full height, adjusted her leggings, then tightened her fist around her mace hard enough for her knuckles to pop.
Though the creature had yet to reveal itself, Nova knew it had to be close by.
It’s waiting for you, his conscience whispered. It’s waiting, Nova. It smells your blood, tastes your fear, knows your deepest, darkest secrets.
“Are you all right?” Carmen asked.
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have these horrible thoughts in my head.”
“Like what?”
“Like something’s whispering things to me.”
“Can they…”
“Can they what?”
“Do things?”
“Like what?”
“Like… put thoughts in your head?”
As highly unlikely as that was, given that werewolves were no more spiritual beings than flesh, he couldn’t help but wonder if some creatures occasionally possessed such psychic abilities. It wasn’t impossible. Odin had once said he heard the voices of animals in his head, so it wouldn’t be too far a stretch for him to be able to hear them, would it?
But I’m not a mage.
In the end, did that really matter?
Pushing himself up, he took his scythe in hand and balanced himself on the balls of his feet to appear more intimidating and, if possible, scare the creature away. It was highly unlikely that it would run, given that it had once again pursued them, but if there were two of them against one of it, would that instill within it the idea to leave?
“Go away,” Nova said, raising his voice as loud as he possibly could.
“Get out of here!” Carmen cried. “Leave you ugly mother!”
The creature let out a low growl and inched forward.
“Get ready,” Nova whispered, tightening his hold around the scythe in his hands and training his eyes on the shadowed figure before them. “We don’t know how much fight this thing has left in it.”
“I know,” Carmen said. “Don’t worry.”
The Dwarf crouched down, picked up a piece of kindling, then threw it directly at the creature.
The piece of wood bounced off its head.
It lunged.
Nova and Carmen dove to the sides.
Resisting the urge to scream as he rolled along his shoulders and pushed himself to his feet, Nova slashed out at the oncoming figure when it dashed toward him and threw itself forward. Not fully connecting, but not entirely missing, Nova saw what appeared to be a splash of blood fly from the creature’s shoulder before it soared directly over him and darted across the countryside.
For one agonizing moment, he could not see anyone or anything.
“Carmen!” he called.
“I’m right here,” the Dwarf said, edging toward him in the darkness. “Don’t worry, everything’s all—“
The werewolf howled.
Nova pushed his hands up and over his ears.
This is never going to end, he thought, trying as hard as he could to seek the creature out in the darkness. It’s just going to keep attacking and running over and over again until it kills one or both of us.
“We have to leave,” Nova said, reaching down to take the Dwarf’s hand after he shrugged himself into his breastplate.
“What?”
“We need to leave.”
“We can’t just run away from it! It’ll follow us.”
“Then we’ll walk back-to-back,” he said, starting forward, but only when he felt Carmen press back against the back of his legs. “If either of us see anything, we say something.”
“Are you sure you can walk?”
“What more can we do?”
Another howl broke the silence of the night.
Nova shivered in spite of the humid air.
He began their trek through the darkness by reaching back to press his hand against Carmen’s head to signify that he did realize her plight and unsurety. One foot forward, the other next, one breath in, then one out—it seemed a process, this thing they did, walking forward due north. In but a few days they would surely see the shining capital of Ornala on the horizon, if only they could outlast the creature and survive the night.
When he stepped on and cracked a branch beneath his boot, a horrible realization came to him.
“Carmen,” he said.
“Yes, Nova?”
“What if there are more of them?”
The Dwarf did not reply.
Rather than push the matter forward, he continued to lead them on with slow, tentative steps. Eventually, through either chance or misguided direction, they landed upon the dirt road and made their way along its smooth surfaces. Here, on paths made by travelers and merchants, their travelling was easy—sacred, even, in spite of everything going on around them. The idea that they could encounter more people was enough to still the panic within his heart and ease the worry from his mind to a more controllable level.
Just keep going, he thought, taking yet another slow, deep breath. You know you can do it.
It wouldn’t be much longer before light would crack the horizon. Already, on the far distance to the east, he could see the beginnings of the pale, birds-egg-blue light rising over the Hornblaris Mountains and lighting the world in a way that he could only hope to see within the next few hours.
“Nova,” Carmen said.
“Yes?” he asked.
The Dwarf said nothing in response.
Nova turned to find the creature standing directly in the road, gargantuan chest heaving and mouth opening, then closing.
“It’s getting weaker,” she said, taking a few steps back and steadying herself against the front of his leg. “We might be able to kill it.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Let’s do it then.”
Raising his scythe in the air, Nova ran forward and met the creature head on.
Its hand lashed out.
He ducked.
Carmen slid between the creature’s legs and grabbed onto its tail.
“I got this ugly mother’s tail!” the Dwarf cried, though in the darkness, Nova could hardly make out the woman’s flight as the creature spun in an attempt to free itself from her grasp. “Come on! Kill this thing before it throws me off!”
Nova flung himself forward.
The werewolf turned just in time to meet his scythe.
When the blade connected w
ith the base of the creature’s skull—when his raw, brute strength began to force the creature to the ground as blood exploded and spilled down its chest—he saw but a flash of movement as Carmen threw herself up the creature’s back.
She raised her mace.
The werewolf screamed.
The Dwarf’s deadly weapon came down and forced his scythe in the rest of the way.
Ligaments snapped beneath his scythe. Bones crunched, arteries exploded.
In but a moment, the creature’s head was lying on the ground, completely severed from its body.
“We got it!” Carmen cried, jumping up and down on the creature’s dead but still-twitching body. “You hear that, you ugly mother! We got you! WE GOT YOU!”
Nova smiled.
Above the Hornblaris Mountains, light began to pierce the sky in faint tendrils of pink.
As the sun began to rise, marking upon them not only their survival, but victory, Nova allowed himself but one deep breath before he reached down, took the Dwarf’s hand, then began to lead them up the road.
They found the horse on the side of the road. Broken, torn apart, eviscerated from head to flank and strung like a great pig atop a mighty man’s table—it seemed to Nova, as he approached grimacing, that everything was lost, that all their belongings had been taken by the very thing that had attacked them last night. When he caught sight of the saddle on the opposite side of the road, he let out a sigh of relief and watched Carmen march over and began to sort through its contents.
“Is everything there?” Nova asked, settling down at the side of the road.
“Looks like it,” the Dwarf said, raising her head to look at him. “You ok?”
“The bandages? The medical stuff?”
“All here, my friend.”
Thank God.
Allowing himself but one moment to relax and believe in the fact that they were finally, truly safe, he reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow and grimaced when the nastiest cut across his left shoulder blade screamed in pain. Fresh blood slipped down his back and was immediately absorbed thereafter within the crude bandaging he and the Dwarf had assembled, though that did little to console his thoughts about the likelihood that he could have an infection.
They said that wild animals were the worst things to get attacked by in the open plains, even worse than bandits or looters.