Rise of the Wolf

by Curtis Jobling

  ‘Light and Dark?’

  ‘That’s right. The writings say that when the Seven Realms are broken there will be a great battle of day versus night, the Light against the Dark.’

  ‘So the Dark is the king?’

  The Boarlord shrugged, without a definitive answer.

  Drew continued: ‘Hector, you have an overactive imagination. No offence, but I don’t really believe in prophecies. I’m a fool farm boy who has fallen into the hands of my enemy with embarrassing ease. I couldn’t have made things simpler for Leopold if I’d turned up in Highcliff and knocked on the door for him.’

  ‘Fate’s a funny thing. Perhaps you’re supposed to arrive in Highcliff. Everything happens for a reason.’

  ‘I think you’ve spent too long “communing”, my friend. Perhaps you need to have a rest? You’ve been through a lot.’

  Hector ignored him, continuing to drive his point home. ‘I believe in you, Drew. I know things look grim, but I’m still convinced your story won’t end in Highcliff at the hands of the king. I don’t think destiny is done with you yet.’

  ‘I wish I shared your optimism.’

  A horn sounded on deck, breaking the conversation and signalling the return of Count Vega.

  ‘Come,’ said Drew, moving the rug back over the markings on the floor. ‘Let’s tidy all this away. I don’t think it’d be good for the captain to find you’ve been practising magicks on board his ship. Sailors are superstitious at the best of times; if they find you’ve been dabbling in the dark arts they’re likely to throw you overboard as an offering to Sosha!’ As Drew sorted the floor out, Hector grabbed all his papers, shoving them into his satchel. Drew handed him the long black candle.

  ‘Thanks, Drew,’ said Hector, smiling and wiping away his tears. He was much calmer now, to Drew’s relief.

  ‘Please let this be an end to it, Hector?’ asked Drew. ‘I couldn’t bear to think of you wallowing in any more misery, and, as you said, you’ve said your goodbyes now.’

  ‘I promise,’ replied the Boarlord with a sniff, stowing the candle in the bottom of his satchel.

  5

  The Crimson Sea

  Arriving back on deck, Drew joined Gretchen as she stood watching the count return in his rowing boat. The crew of the Maelstrom had all gathered on one side of the ship to welcome their captain back on board. The short wiry man, Figgis, stood ready to throw a rope ladder over the side for the small boat. Six men rowed the craft, while the pirate prince sat at the back, looking very pleased with himself. They’d been ashore for the whole morning, time enough for him to conclude his business with the governor. A large keg of spirits sat in the middle of the boat, payment for whatever nefarious services he had performed. The crew of the Maelstrom whooped with anticipation.

  ‘He’s a rogue,’ said Drew. ‘A villain.’

  ‘He is,’ Gretchen agreed. ‘And there isn’t a shred of decency you can plead to within his heartless body.’

  Bound as his arms were, Drew leaned against her, and she didn’t pull away.

  ‘There might still be hope for you, Gretchen. Hector and I … well, I don’t want to think what will become of us. But, please, don’t let yourself be trapped by these people. Duke Bergan would help you, I’m sure.’

  ‘My place is in Highcliff, Drew. I am to be wed to Prince Lucas and there is nothing you or I can do about that. My life has been leading to this; he and I have been betrothed since childhood. Perhaps he can change.’

  ‘He’ll never change, and you know it. He’s a sadistic monster, just like his father, and he will only bring you misery and heartache. You will not be happy by his side.’

  She said nothing, and rested her head against his shoulder, her tumbling locks of red hair soft against his jaw. He couldn’t help but breathe in her scent, which reminded him of wildflowers in the woods, the smell of carefree times. What was he thinking? This was the spoiled little rich girl who disliked him almost as much as he disliked her. Now wasn’t the time for such nonsensical thoughts. She’d probably kick him if she knew what he was thinking. He pulled his wandering thoughts away from where they’d meandered, and looked back to the rowing boat as it neared the Maelstrom.

  Before the boat could reach the ship, Drew felt a tingling sensation, a sense that something wasn’t quite right. Had he heard something? A series of thunking noises like axes hitting wood. He looked at the crew who were gathered around him, calling to their comrades as they neared the ship, eager to receive the keg. Behind him he noticed that the deck was empty. Every sailor was peering over the side of the ship. Drew stepped away from Gretchen.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, watching as he filed between the men towards the unmanned starboard side of the ship. He looked down the length of the long wooden rail. Dotted intermittently along its course were the hooked metal spikes of grappling irons, with ropes attached to them, disappearing over the side. He peered over just as the first pirate leapt aboard, the knife that had been held between his teeth now firmly in his hand.

  ‘Attack!’ shouted Drew, and the deck erupted into activity. As the pirate lunged at him he could do nothing but leap clear, his hands still bound by his steel manacles. He danced back as the man proceeded to rush at him, jabbing wildly with the knife while his comrades joined him on the deck. Vega’s men ran straight into the melee, cutlasses and shortswords at the ready, engaging their enemies earnestly. Within moments the deck was a sea of screams and cries as swords and knives, cutlasses and clubs clashed with one another. Blood flew as the ferocity of battle grew.

  Drew was still being harried by the pirate who’d first leapt aboard, his back now against the wall of the lower deck. With nowhere to retreat he leapt towards his attacker, deftly dodging the man’s lunges as he brought both his fists down into the bandit’s face. Drew heard the pirate’s nose splinter as his forearms connected, sending the now unconscious man tumbling to the deck with a crunch. He looked about. There was no sign of Gretchen or Hector, which hopefully meant they were safe. Picking up the pirate’s dagger he tried to find his way around the combat, but was soon being singled out for attention.

  A tall bare-chested man, covered in tattoos, advanced towards him, a shortsword in each hand. As he scythed in with both weapons, Drew was able to parry one but not the other, cold metal tearing into the flesh at his hip. Grimacing with the shooting pain, Drew bowled into the man, figuring close-quarters was his best chance with his hands bound. The two fell to the deck, grappling. Instantly the man was biting Drew, his rotten teeth digging deep into the flesh of his neck. Drew almost passed out with the savagery of the pirate’s attack and the efforts to control his rage, knowing he had to keep the Wolf away and fight this as a man. If he lost control now, it could be the death of him, the hard metal handcuffs reminding him of what he stood to lose. He swung his head about, butting the man in the face and causing him to loosen his grip. Drew pulled his neck free, a gout of blood erupting from the wound. Still clasping the dagger he stabbed down, catching the man in the leg and causing him to retreat.

  Nursing his bloodied throat, Drew looked up and saw a flash of red hair in the crowd of fighting figures: Gretchen! She was being carried towards the grapples by a pair of pirates, held aloft over the sea of swords. She wasn’t going easy. Gretchen was changing as she struggled, her face contorting as razor-sharp teeth sprang to the fore. Her fingers had transformed into claws and she lashed out indiscriminately, tearing bloody strips from the men’s arms and faces. At that moment Count Vega boarded the Maelstrom, his rapier in his hands as he dashed into the fight.

  ‘Unhand her!’ he cried, charging forward and finding an enemy pirate with almost every thrust.

  Drew was in awe momentarily, the sea captain a swordsman of skill like he’d never encountered. Vega spun, parried and lunged, each time bringing fresh wounds to his opponents and not once receiving a hit in return. Bodies fell in his wake, lifeless or injured, either way no longer a threat. Drew looked to where they were taking Gretchen, and
spied a pirate standing on the rails, beckoning his men to bring her to him. He wore a large black hat covered in red ribbons that trailed in the wind like crimson seaweed.

  ‘To me, boys!’ he cried. ‘Bring the girl to me!’

  They’re here for Gretchen, thought Drew instantly. Word must have got out of what unique goods Count Vega was transporting aboard the Maelstrom. It seemed the Pirate Prince wasn’t the only opportunist on the White Sea after all. But Drew couldn’t alert him, a line of fighting men blocking his way. Looking across the deck, the opposing captain in the ribboned hat spied Vega cutting a path through his men towards him. Seizing Gretchen under his arm, he began to descend one of his grappling lines, letting the rope zip through his hands at an alarming rate as he hit his boat below in four bounds.

  ‘Back to the Hellfire, lads!’ he bellowed as the waiting men snatched Gretchen from his arms.

  Her deadly hands lashed out at her captors, but they were too many, pinioning her and throwing her to the deck of the rowing boat.

  Vega strode on, dancing and stabbing, still graceful amid the sound of ringing steel and the showers of blood. Figgis was by his side, scarily efficient with a dagger and a shortsword in each hand. He might have been old, but he was as nimble as any of the Maelstrom’s deckhands. Drew also spied Casper, darting through the throng, his dagger flashing as he nipped in and out of the battle, catching pirates here and there.

  Drew leapt up a short flight of stairs to the top deck, dashing over to the rails to look below. Already the attackers were beating a retreat, three boats departing as their oars heaved into the water. The remaining Hellfire pirates on board began to dive over, swimming to their drifting boats as they escaped from the combat. Two of them couldn’t resist taking blows at Casper as they passed, one of them cutting a deep wound into the lookout’s back as they leapt clear. The young boy staggered forward to the edge of the ship, before toppling over the rail.

  Count Vega took three steps back from the edge of his ship, casting his rapier to one side. With two huge strides he sprang up on to the rail and launched himself through the air, twisting into a perfect dive before cutting the water just yards from the boat with Gretchen on board. Judging by Vega’s actions he had no intention of letting the Werefox go. Drew looked down and saw Casper bobbing in the water, spluttering for air as the blood wept from his back. Drew paused for a moment before making up his mind. He jumped in.

  The water was freezing, icy like nothing he’d ever experienced. Surfacing he kicked about, searching through the bodies for the young lookout. He finally saw the boy as his head disappeared and his hand grasped out of the sea. Drew kicked forward, pulling at the water with his manacled hands while his legs propelled him on. Casper’s hand slipped below the churning waves and Drew dived down. He could see the whites of the boy’s eyes flashing past in the dark water, as a stream of bubbles escaped his mouth, the current pulling him under. Drew snatched Casper’s wrist then kicked for the surface, working his legs with all the energy he could muster. Sucking in a gulp of air, he hauled the young boy up the length of his body, pulling him on to his chest while he trod water. More deckhands dived overboard to help carry the lookout to safety, two of whom also grabbed hold of Drew, incapable of swimming properly as he was. Rope ladders were lowered and he was helped back up the side of the Maelstrom. He looked back into the sea for Vega and Gretchen as the sailors tended to their wounded.

  The rival pirates’ rowing boat was being buffeted by some great force beneath the waves. Two, then three men tumbled overboard, losing their footing under the heavy assault, the sea churning red where they landed. Only the pirate captain remained on board now, standing over the prone body of Gretchen, his cutlass held out warily. The buffeting stopped. The crew of the Maelstrom lined up along the rail, watching for what would happen next.

  It was quiet, but only for a moment.

  The water erupted beside the rowing boat as a monstrous figure leapt out of the water, crashing into the captain before disappearing over the other side, taking the doomed man with it. Drew had just enough time to recognize the monster as Count Vega, but a transformation had taken place. It seemed to happen in slow motion as Drew took in every detail. Gone were his devilish good looks, gone was the graceful fencer who had whirled through the pirates aboard the Maelstrom. The smile of perfect white teeth had been replaced by a gaping foot-wide mouth, arcing around a wide grey head. Jagged serrated teeth jutted from the jawline, row after row, and his head had elongated to a pointed grey snout. The white shirt of the Pirate Prince clung to his torso, his muscled chest rippling as he grabbed the rival captain. Deathly black eyes twinkled as the creature’s teeth closed round his victim’s chest, blinking as they bit down through skin, flesh and ribs, before the two disappeared into the White Sea, turning it red in an explosion of blood.

  The crew of the Maelstrom cheered as they threw lines out to the rowing boat. One of the sailors brought a blanket for Drew, placing it over his shoulders and patting his back with thanks. Hector emerged from below decks where he’d been hiding, obviously relieved to see his friends were both safe. Gretchen was escorted back up a rope ladder and on to the ship, the men treating her courteously as she found her feet once more. She rushed to Drew and Hector, and the three of them embraced.

  Count Vega was the last to return to the Maelstrom. He appeared over the side of the rails having sprung up one of the grappling lines, hurdling the wooden balustrade in a graceful bound. His white shirt still hung off his chest, dripping with water and stained pink with the blood from the sea. He had returned to normal now, the beast he’d changed into now smoothing away. One of his crew members chattered to him, pointing at Drew and then to Casper, who was being treated on the deck. Vega picked up his rapier and strode forward, the hard soles of his knee-high boots slapping against the wooden planks as he approached.

  ‘It appears I owe you my gratitude,’ said the Pirate Prince, twisting his neck to one side as his bones finished falling back into place. He jutted his jaw as he turned his head from side to side, a cracking noise emerging when he relaxed his joints. Gretchen cringed.

  ‘I’d have done the same for any comrade,’ said Drew, looking over to the injured boy. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’ll live, Drew, thanks to you.’ Vega took another step forward, his usual pleasant demeanour replaced by a more serious one. ‘Nothing’s changed, though, boy. I still have to take you to the king. Business is business, you understand? Really, I’m sorry.’

  Drew nodded, already resigned to that fact. ‘What happened out there?’ he asked, although in truth he knew the answer full well. He’d just witnessed Count Vega the Wereshark, scourge of the sea, in all his glory.

  The Pirate Prince raised his rapier and turned the shining blade like a mirror so he could see his mouth. He chortled, rubbing his thumb across his teeth with a squeak, giving them a careful clean. They gleamed white once more.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘You thought you were the only one with the parlour tricks, pup?’

  1

  Into the Lion’s Den

  The whip cracked, the silver studs that peppered its length leaving another trail of torn flesh along Drew’s back. His legs threatened to give way from under him as he stumbled forward along the drawbridge, feet tripping over one another. The manacles had been replaced by a purpose-built set of wooden stocks that he wore round his neck and wrists like a yoke. Although not visible to any onlooker, silver rings were embedded round each of the three holes, encircling his throat and hands in a cold embrace. Soldiers of the Lionguard marched on either side of him as he was paraded across the bridge. Behind him, Captain Brutus was rolling up the whip once more, readying himself to send another lash to the Wolf’s back. Drew peered up through tear-drenched eyes to see an enormous metal portcullis disappear over his head like the mouth of some great leviathan, as he vanished into Highcliff Keep.

  They had arrived only an hour ago, a collection of frigates guiding the Maelstrom into t
he city’s harbour. People had lined the street from the docks right up to the castle to see the Wolf brought to the Lion’s door. Some had cheered, the most fervent supporters of the king throwing refuse and rotten fruit and vegetables at Drew. For the most part the crowd watched with a mixture of morbid curiosity and pity as he was dragged, whipped and prodded up the steep streets to the castle.

  The walls of the fortress were built into the sheer and deadly cliffs that thrust up from the sea below, allowing the structure to sit towering over Highcliff, separated from the city on all sides but for a drawbridge. Enormous grey walls encircled the keep, still a hundred feet high at their lowest point, impregnable to invasion and intimidating to onlookers. Flags fluttered from the crenellations and turrets, revealing the heraldic devices of all Seven Realms. More striking than any of the others was the giant red flag that billowed above the gatehouse; it bore the image of the rampant gold lion of Leopold, rising on its hind legs as it pawed, roaring, at the heavens.

  Drew had been led through a large public arena known as the High Square, to the front of the gatehouse, where scaffolding and platforms were being hastily erected. Carpenters and labourers paused in what they were doing to watch the thronging procession as it made its way into the castle. Hector was also being led unchained, with a modicum more respect. There was no sadistic soldier whipping him as he trudged up the hill. Count Vega strode along by his side in all his finery, scarlet-lined black cape fluttering from his shoulders. On his right hip he carried Drew’s Wolfshead blade to match his own rapier on the other. All the while he watched Captain Brutus as he worked his misery upon Drew. If he was feeling any remorse, he didn’t show it. He just observed everything, missing nothing. Gretchen had been whisked away by carriage as soon as they had arrived, spirited to her future home by the Lionguard without a moment to spare. Drew still found time to hope she was well and would emerge from this hell unscathed.