Doom and the Warrior

by Lexy Wolfe

  “What was that about?” Doom asked finally.

  “I asked him if my pack-brother could participate in the games as well.” She looked up at him. “He said yes.” Shocked briefly, he squeezed her shoulder, unable to find the words to express his gratitude. She simply covered his hand, returning the squeeze lightly.

  THE BRIGHT LAUGHTER of children at play mingled with the cheers of the adults as the various competitions proceeded. While the humans displayed a level of skill not too different from the wolflen, Doom proved himself a daunting opponent, taking first or close seconds in most of the contests. Forced to use his own weapons because his hands were too large for most others, the townsfolk teased that he did not throw spears, but saplings.

  As Tiwaz had predicted, she did not perform as well as most expected her to, particularly with anything that had to do with ranged weapons. “Of course I cannot throw well. Why throw a perfectly good weapon away when I could use it up close?” was the explanation that produced gales of laughter from both wolflen and humans alike. However, while her aim was less than envious, the depth she could bury something into its target elevated the admiration she was gaining.

  Throughout the day, Doom strove to keep himself concealed with his cloak hood drawn forward and scarf wrapped around his lower face, and gloves to hide his green skin. But despite glimpses of inhuman yellow eyes or olive green skin, his congenial demeanor and ability to soothe Tiwaz’s flares of temper began winning almost all of the town’s inhabitants over. Even the children showed little fear as they would chase each other around and through his legs if he stood still too long.

  Pack Leader stood beside the pair, considering the wrestling pit being set up as a wolflen and human established the matches to keep things fair. “Are you certain you do not wish to wrestle, Doom? Several of my younger hunters think they could take you.” He looked sideways at the gromek. “It would serve them well to have their pride bruised.”

  Doom chuckled. “Thank you, no. I’ll leave that to Tiwaz.” He held out a hand, flexing it as he looked at it. “I outweigh everyone here and I do not have the training to moderate my strength in the heat of the moment. I don’t wish to permanently hurt someone.”

  “Fair enough,” Pack Leader granted. The first match was between Tiwaz and a young human who had more pride than experience. Both Pack Leader and Doom winced as Tiwaz took him down in three moves. “Perhaps the exaggerations from the encounter in the market are not as exaggerated as some assume,” Pack Leader conceded. Doom’s posture reflected smug pride in his friend. “She should leave them a little of their pride, perhaps.”

  “So, what do ya think o’ the girl, Darl?” About to say something, Doom turned his head sharply, his attention drawn less to the words than the tenor beneath them. “Think ya could handle her?”

  “Ha!” The other man laughed in derision. “Doubt she’s as good a lay as she’s a wrestler,” he scoffed. “Stinkin’ wolf-lover. Heard she ‘runs’ with them. Should take her out an’ beat that nonsense out of her. Wolflen and humans have no business wi’ each other.”

  Before anyone realized what was going on, Darl dangled from Doom’s single hand around his throat, his boots two feet above the ground. Darl’s cronies backed away in terror, leaving him to the gromek’s tender mercies.

  No one could mistake the gromek’s displeasure. “You think you can threaten my friend within my hearing and not have to answer for it?” he growled menacingly. Darl’s eyes bulged, his face turning deep purple as he struggled to remove the iron grip from his throat.

  “Doom,” Tiwaz said in a calm, gentle voice, putting her hand on his arm. “Turning him into a new shade of human will not teach him anything.” Doom paused a moment before finally lowering Darl so his weight was on his own feet, loosening his hold only slightly so he could breathe.

  The moment his feet touched the ground, Darl snatched at the cloth covering Doom’s face, the movement knocking his cowl back to reveal his demonic head to everyone. Releasing the man too late to prevent his exposure, Doom cringed at the reactions of the townspeople, from gasps to cries of shock or fright. Darl fled backwards from Tiwaz’s threatening advance, yelling, “It’s a demon! Kill it before it kills us all!”

  Doom grabbed his friend from behind, pulling her against him protectively. “Ti, no,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t hurt anyone because of me. Please.” The people stood frozen, torn between the choices of fleeing or attacking.

  Kerk walked up to Doom, putting his hand on the gromek’s arm as he glared at his brethren. “Hey, now! Since when has what a man looks like mattered to us here in the North?” he demanded. “Isn’t it why we’re all here? To live in peace without the bigotries of the Empire?” The tension began to ease as the blacksmith spoke. “That is all these two youngsters want. This is their home now. Sure, Doom may look like a demon, but do you think I’d let a demon into my home? He is more than what you see.”

  “How do ye know he ain’t no demon, old man?” said one of the younger men that followed Darl around town. “He tell ye?”

  Kerk scowled, face flushing with anger as he shook a fist at the smaller man. “No one told me anything, boy! Absolutely nothing bad has happened here since they came. Hells. Look around you.” He waved at the mixed group of humans and wolflen. “I’d say something right happened to Bralden finally.” He waved his hands irritably. “Look around first before you go passing judgments. Besides, when has Darl been sober long enough to keep his damned mouth shut?” Nervous laughter ran through the observers as people removed hands from weapons and relaxed.

  Snatching Darl by the shoulder, Doom turned the man around roughly. “You threatened my friend,” he growled, nose to nose with the human, even more fearsome with his face fully exposed to the light. “Apologize. Now!”

  Darl looked imploringly at the unsympathetic humans, even to the wolflen he had bad-mouthed earlier. No one came to his defense. “I-I’m sorry.” Doom released him with a shove. He tripped over himself as he fled.

  Tiwaz picked up the scarf and handed it back to the gromek. As he replaced the head covering to keep from distracting people, she said in low voice, “Thank you, Doom.”

  He nodded, eyes narrowing as he smiled beneath the scarf. “Not a problem, Pack-Sister.” She smiled faintly, a slight pink hue coloring her cheeks. He clapped a hand to her shoulder. “Now, go finish this contest that was so rudely interrupted.” The man waiting to face her paled at her feral smile as she stalked towards him.

  ONCE THE LAST of the prizes were awarded and the campfires were stoked for an evening of traditional storytelling, Pack Leader approached the reclusive pair. “Tiwaz, Shaman is very impressed.”

  “Thank you, Pack Leader. It was an honor to be welcomed by your people and permitted to participate.”

  Speaking in the human tongue for Doom’s benefit, he continued after a pause. “He is especially impressed with your pack-brother. His numerous victories displayed impressive knowledge and skill. His name may not be like our traditional pack names, but he has shown he is worthy of acceptance.” With more formality, he intoned, “Shaman has decreed you will be known as Doom-Not-Demon among our tribe.”

  Doom bowed graciously. “I am honored. Thank you.”

  “See? I told you this was not my realm. It was yours,” she pointed out to the gromek affectionately.

  The older wolflen chuckled. “You do not understand exactly how impressed Shaman is, Friend Tiwaz. He has given permission for you both to attend the final event.” Both looked curious. “None of the other humans will be offered this chance, because they do not hunt in packs; they are more solitary hunters, and that is not our way.

  “You are a true pack, small as it may be considered. I hope our instruction will be enough for you to consider allowing your pack-sister to hunt by your side in the future, Doom-Not-Demon.”

  Doom chuckled quietly, looking down at his friend. “It is more than enough.”

  Pack Leader took a deep breath. “The final c
ontest is a hunting pack contest. Each pack is sent in a particular direction with a vague destination given. The object is to find a cache of objects. They had been hidden weeks ago to dissipate the scent of those who hid them. You must find them, and return first before the high moon.”

  Tiwaz frowned, confused. “But I thought wolflen hunt in packs of no fewer than three. We are only two.”

  He nodded. “That we know. However, we will allow one of our own to join you. A youth who earned his pack name this past full greater moon. He has yet to choose those with whom he will run because he is more solitary than most. His art makes him so.” Tiwaz tilted her head to the side. “My youngest son Tracker.”

  “I know him.” She looked to Doom. “He is very gifted.”

  Doom bowed to Pack Leader. “We will be honored to hunt with your son.”

  The wolflen smiled, returning the bow. “Smith is right, Doom-Not-Demon. You are more than you appear. My son does not speak the human tongue well, but he is a willing student.” He turned and beckoned to a wolflen standing apart from several others clustered together.

  The young male was nearly as tall as his sire, but not as broad in the chest, still possessing the lean body of youth. Standing proudly before Doom and Tiwaz, he displayed no trepidation, but definitely a hint of arrogance. “Tracker show true hunting. Return with victory.”

  As the young male walked off with an arrogant, self-assured swagger, Doom and Tiwaz lagged a little behind him. The smile in the gromek’s voice was apparent. “A pack with you, me, a wolflen and two huge egos. This ought to be interesting.” He chuckled when Tiwaz elbowed him.

  IN THE DARKENING woods, Tiwaz spoke with Tracker in his native tongue. He was curt and impatient, turning and loping off into the darkness. “He says he knows a shortcut to our goal. You sure you can keep his trail? He’s one of the best they’ve got.”

  Well outside the village boundaries, Doom removed his cloak and scarf, stuffing them into his backpack. “Have a little faith in me, Ti.” He looked at the sky. “Are you going to change? It’s after sunset.”

  She shook her head. “Not unless it’s necessary. Tracker is young and no one has ever seen me change my form. I don’t want to spook him.” She pressed her lips together briefly. “Stories are one thing. Reality tends to scare the hell out of people. Shape-shifters are legend even to wolflen. Not a good legend, either. I’m just happy no one thinks I’m a contagious lycanthrope.” Doom shrugged, leading the way into the darkness.

  They encountered many hazardous obstacles on the treacherous path Tracker was leading them on. “I’m impressed he’s been able to get past most of this,” Doom observed. “They’re giving me pause.”

  “I’m just worried his pride is pushing him to take on too much risk alone.” Tiwaz looked at her friend. “He wants to prove himself better than us outsiders. He does not see himself as a part of our team.” She stopped when Doom froze, silent for several heartbeats. “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I think Tracker finally hit an obstacle he couldn’t get around. Sounds like a wounded bear or something, but I can’t be certain.” A very audible howl of pain startled them, and both bolted in the direction Tracker’s voice led them.

  They skidded to a halt at the edge of a very large sinkhole that the wolflen had slipped down into. Unfortunately, he was not alone; a large, wild boar was also with him. The creature was mad with injury and hunger and the young wolflen was an opportune meal. To its small mind, Tracker was the cause of its hunger pangs. It had already slashed his legs with his tucks.

  “Tracker!” Doom bellowed to the fallen wolflen. He lay flat, reaching down as far as he could. “Grab my hand!” Tracker stretched to reach the gromek’s extended hand, but there was still too much distance for them to meet. He looked wildly at the boar as it squealed loudly in preparation to attack.

  A black panther suddenly leapt down and landed between Tracker and the boar, snarling in challenge. A swipe of claws across its snout gained the boar’s complete and undivided attention. It charged the panther and the cat rolled onto her back, clamping her jaws on its throat and digging at the soft underbelly with her back paws. Her grip was imprecise, doing little but infuriating the beast.

  Doom tied a rope to a tree and slid down into the pit, tossing Tracker his dropped spear. The wolflen, somewhat in shock to see Tiwaz’s alternate shape, reflexively grabbed the weapon out of the air. As Doom drew the boar’s attention towards him, the wolflen drove his spear into the boar’s heart, killing the monster. Both males moved quickly to get the carcass off the unmoving panther.

  “Ti?!” Doom rested his hand on her shoulder. “Ti, do something. Gods, please, don’t be dead.” He exhaled in relief when she opened her eyes, achingly rolling over and pulling herself to her feet, weaving unstably. She stared at Tracker with weary eyes, fully expecting him to react with fear, horror or disgust.

  The young wolflen crouched carefully, favoring his injuries. He stared at her, his expression unreadable as his eyes moved up and down her altered form. “Stories true. Tiwaz change.” She lowered her head, eyes closing as he reached out to put a hand on her head, stroking down her shoulder. “Change when want. Still Tiwaz. No madness.”

  “Yes, she is still herself,” Doom confirmed. “She is a true shape-shifter. The ability to take a second form is a natural ability, not the lycanthrope sickness.”

  It was difficult to read the wolflen’s expression as he looked her over, looked at his hand after touching her, then back to her. “Saved Tracker’s life.” His words were slow, thoughtful. He met her eyes. “Cat-Sister. Friend.” Tiwaz relaxed, releasing her held breath in relief. He held his hand out to the gromek. “Doom-Not-Demon also friend.”

  Doom accepted the wolflen’s hand. “Thank you, Tracker.” He looked at Tiwaz. “You going to be able to make it?”

  She snorted at him, flicking her tail at him as she walked over to the clearer area of the hole and leaped up. Nearly missing the ledge, she scrabbled a bit before pulling herself up and out. “I’m getting dressed. Tie the end of the rope to that thing. We should not waste it.”

  Doom looked at Tracker as they worked together to secure the boar. “Will we make it to our goal in time to make it back before the others?”

  The wolflen grinned, nearly as unnerving an expression on his face as it was on Doom’s. “Goal over rise. Easier path longer. Come from other side. Might not have seen this.” He patted the boar’s flank. “Meat for tribe.”

  Tiwaz looked over the edge. “I checked the rope. It should hold so you both can get up. This food is more important than some contest. And we need to bind your wounds, Tracker.” Doom offered her his face scarf for makeshift bandages when he reached the top.

  He secured the boar to his back while Tiwaz tended to their wolflen companion. Tracker then guided them to the hollow log on the low hill and pulled out a sack. Inside were a large gold ring decorated with a single, blood-red feather; a woven strip of colorful leather thongs decorated with beads and feathers; and a narrower strip of woven leather similarly decorated. “We just take these back?” Tiwaz asked, mildly perplexed.

  Tracker shook his head as he took her hand and slipped the ring over her hand and up her arm. “Wear. We win, we keep.” He tied the narrow strip in a headband that fit him perfectly, then turned to Doom, tying the broad one to his off wrist. “Was made for us.”

  “Even for Doom?” Tiwaz looked at the ring, touched and troubled equally. “But it was not until today I asked he be allowed to participate. How could anyone have known…?”

  “Pack Leader wise,” Tracker said, looking away. “Pack always runs together. Cat-Sister and Doom-Not-Demon not wolflen. Are pack.” He sighed. “Tracker thought never need pack to hunt. Sire knew. Tracker stupid.”

  Doom put his hand on Tracker’s shoulder. “No, not stupid. It is easy to think we can or have to do something alone, or we are the only one who can do something.”

  Tracker stood up and stretched. “Others soon c
atching up. Must hurry back.” He caught Tiwaz by the shoulder. His words were slow, hinting at embarrassment. “Tracker still have much to learn before choosing pack to run with. Would Cat-Sister hunt with Tracker?”

  Tiwaz looked towards Doom uncertainly. He nodded slightly, gesturing to her in mute encouragement. “Yes. I will hunt with you.” Bright red, she added in a rush, “We should hurry.” Tracker nodded and the three started running.

  THE GATHERING OF celebrating humans and wolflen had relocated to the Hunter’s Lodge, the large hall that attached to the Wolf’s Den. Food prepared by humans and wolflen alike were served to the long tables of mixed races. Though still with some awkwardness, the two groups spoke and ate together, discovering they were more alike than not.

  At the head table, Pack Leader spoke with Shaman seated beside him, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps this should have been done sooner, trying to forge an understanding with the humans who shared our territory beyond Smith and some few others.”

  Shaman snorted softly, the beads of his headdress rattling with the gesture of disdain. “None of us were ready. There was too much hostility between us. Too much distrust. If one of them offered their hand to us, or we to them, it would have been slapped away. We saw only our differences, not our similarities. We needed Warrior to heal the division between us. She made us see ourselves through her eyes.” He grunted. “I had my doubts allowing her to run with our cubs. But you were right about her.”

  “Something troubles you,” Pack Leader observed.

  The old wolflen grumpily waved a hand. “You need not worry that I believe she endangers the tribe. I do not.”

  “Still, you have concerns, and your concerns are worth heeding. They were when I was a pup and didn’t want to listen. They are more so now as we have both aged.” The larger male paused a moment. “What concerns you about Tiwaz?”