The Werewolves of Nottinghill

by J. J. Thompson

“Just between you and me,” Nersalla said quietly, “some of my warriors think you look very striking.”

  “Striking?” Malcolm repeated.

  “Oh yes. They are quite impressed by you, more than the other humans that they have seen.”

  “Ah, I see,” the big man said with a smile. “Well, that's very flattering. Thank you. Now, I'm sure that I've taken up enough of your time but, before I go, is there anything that I can do for you? Do your people need more food or blankets or...?”

  “It is good of you to offer, but no, we do not. But if we are staying for an extended period of time, which I do not know yet, I might impose on your kindness later on. If that is acceptable?”

  “Of course it is. Just ask one of the guards at the gate if you need to speak with me, at any time, and I'll come back down immediately.”

  “Thank you, sir. That is very kind of you.”

  “Hey, we're allies now,” Malcolm told her firmly. “And allies help each other.”

  Nersalla smiled and thumped her chest with her fist. Malcolm repeated the gesture and they parted amicably.

  As he slowly walked back up the hill, the big man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had a lot to think about.

  Chapter 12

  Early the next morning, Aiden joined Malcolm up on the battlements. The air was cool, but the sky was clear and the sun was just creeping over the horizon. It promised to be a beautiful day.

  The men were examining the ballistae that the dwarves had given to the people of Nottinghill years before. With the threat of both dragons and goblins mounted on flying beasts, the two warriors had decided to make sure that the large machines were still in good operating condition. They were serviced regularly, but it didn't hurt to check on them.

  “These things have always looked like giant crossbows to me,” Malcolm remarked as he stood back and stared at the mechanism. “They're very cleverly made, don't you think?”

  Aiden got down on one knee and checked the underside of the ballista. He ran his fingers over the surfaces of the wood and iron brackets that held the machine together and nodded approvingly.

  “Very clever,” he agreed as he stood up again. “They certainly worked well against those three dragons that attacked us, before Liliana faced the red primal. And the dwarves have definitely improved on the human version of ballistae. These iron supports keep the whole machine from flexing too much, and bolting them into the stone of the wall keeps them from moving when they fire a projectile.”

  He looked around with a frown.

  “And speaking of projectiles, where are the bolts for this machine?”

  Both of them turned around to look up and down the length of the wall, but there was no sign of the ballista ammunition anywhere. In fact, none of the four machines seemed to have the piles of missiles that looked so much like giant crossbow bolts that should have been stored next to each of them.

  “What the hell?” Malcolm growled. “What use are these things without ammo?”

  He looked for the closest guardsman standing along the wall and gestured at her. She hurried over, boots clicking against the stone.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Sharon, right?” Malcolm asked with a smile.

  “Yes sir,” the young woman replied.

  She was wearing the standard chain-mail armor, with her coif tied to her belt within easy reach. Her black hair was very short.

  Aiden raised an eyebrow at her choice of weapon. Most of the guards carried the standard sword and shield when on duty, but Sharon had two long-swords hanging from her belt. Interesting.

  “Sharon,” Malcolm continued. “Do you have any idea where the ballistae ammunition might be?”

  She shot a quick glance at the machine.

  “Yes sir. Daniel, the blacksmith, came up late yesterday with a couple of his apprentices and collected all of it. Said he needed to improve it, whatever that means. He's in charge of the machines' maintenance, so no one questioned him.”

  “I see. Well, that's quite true. Thank you. We'll go down and see him.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Sharon saluted and turned away, returning to her post.

  “She's new, isn't she?” Aiden asked as he and Malcolm walked toward the stairs.

  “Yep. Just joined a few days ago, actually. You haven't seen her spar yet?”

  “No, but I noticed the swords. Can she actually use them effectively?”

  Malcolm glanced back at him as they started walking down the steps toward the courtyard.

  “You would not believe how fast she is. Her Change gave her an incredible skill with weapons. In all modesty, you and I are good, but if Sharon was taller and heavier, she'd probably kick both of our asses in combat.”

  “Really? Excellent. The more talented warriors that we can find, the better, especially now.”

  At the bottom of the steps, they turned toward the smithy.

  “You want to know the real kicker?” Malcolm asked him.

  “What?”

  “She was originally working as a seamstress.”

  Aiden gaped at him.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Nothing against that profession, of course. We all need new clothing and stuff. But when you're as gifted a fighter as Sharon is, letting that talent go to waste while you're making shirts and pants is almost criminal.”

  They stopped just outside of the smithy for a moment.

  “What made her apply to the guards?” Aiden asked curiously.

  Malcolm chuckled.

  “She didn't. One of her friends noticed how quick and dexterous she was when she was sewing and mentioned it to Tom in passing. Apparently she and Tom's wife are close, so she knows him well. Then he went to visit Sharon, asked her to try out and the rest is history.”

  “Wow. So we just got lucky?”

  “Yep. We could use more luck like that. I wonder how many of our neighbors might have hidden talents like Sharon's?”

  “Are you two great lumps coming in or are you just going to stand there blocking my doorway? This is a place of business, you know!”

  Daniel's bellow made both of the warriors jump and they hurried inside, ducking to avoid the top of the entrance.

  The blacksmith was sitting in front of a desk to the right of the entrance, looking over a stack of drawings and schematics. He looked up at Malcolm and Aiden as they walked in.

  “You two can certainly plug up a doorway, do you know that?” he said with a crooked smile.

  They both laughed.

  “Sorry about that,” Aiden said ruefully. “We didn't think that you could see us from in here.”

  “You're hard to miss, both of you. So what can I do for you this early morning?”

  Aiden nodded at Malcolm.

  “Daniel,” the big man said, “We were just up on the battlements and we noticed...”

  “That the ballistae have no ammo?” Daniel cut in, finishing his sentence.

  “Exactly,” Malcolm said with a grin. “And with the new threats from both dragons and goblins, we were just wondering what's going on.”

  “Yeah, when we fought off those three dragons, there was plenty of ammo. What's up?” Aiden asked.

  “Ah yes,” Daniel said as he shook a finger at the men. “Plenty of ordinary bolts. Enchanted by yours truly and good enough to fend off griffons or wyverns, but not both dragons and whatever the goblins are going to throw at us. I decided that, since the damned goblins are now a threat along with all the other beasties flying around in our skies, we needed ammunition with more umph to it.”

  He picked up a large piece of parchment and handed it to Aiden.

  “These bad boys, specifically.”

  Malcolm and Aiden moved closer to a torch burning in a bracket on the wall and looked down at the parchment.

  They saw a detailed sketch of a ballista bolt, but it looked much different than the regular bolts that they were used to. The head of the missile wasn't just a pointed piece of metal, like the old bolts ha
d been. Instead, it was more blade-like and split into four wickedly sharp segments. And at the base of the head was a round bulbish protrusion that didn't look like it was made of metal.

  “These are evil looking, Daniel,” Aiden commented with a glance at the blacksmith.

  The man grinned back.

  “Aye, they're not meant to be pretty, that's true. I've attached four blades together so that they are more aerodynamic than the old heads. And a hell of a lot sharper too. Those babies will cut through the thickest hide. And of course I'm using my own bit of magical talent to make them even deadlier.”

  “They're enchanted?”

  “Certainly. Every single one. As are all of the arrow heads that we produce.”

  Daniel scratched his thick scalp noisily.

  “It's tiring work, mind you, but well worth the effort. I've got my apprentices to do most of the heavy lifting now, so I can concentrate on just the design and the forging.”

  Malcolm walked over to the desk, put down the parchment and pointed at it.

  “What's this round bit at the base of the head? It doesn't even look like it's made of metal. I don't think that I've never seen something like that before.”

  The blacksmith chuckled.

  “No, I'm sure that you have not. And if Macy hadn't joined our community, I wouldn't have even thought of it.”

  Aiden pulled up a rough wooden chair and sat down in front of the desk. Malcolm just leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

  “Macy?” he asked. “Who's Macy?”

  “You two should really get out more,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “Macy Wilson. She's from Hull, originally. She came in about a year ago with a small group of refugees. How they'd managed to survive alone in the middle of a ruined city for years is beyond me, but then again we hear a lot of stories like that.”

  He leaned back in his chair and frowned up at the soot-stained ceiling.

  “You know, I wonder if there aren't a lot more of these little communities than we ever thought possible. We're still getting a trickle of refugees making their way to Nottinghill almost ten years after the world was basically destroyed by the dragons. That must mean that there are still quite a few groups of survivors out there. Shouldn't the mages be looking for them?”

  Aiden and Malcolm both nodded.

  “They are, Daniel,” Malcolm rumbled, “Or at least that's what Tamara tells us. We've raised that topic before and she assured us that the few of them who can use the Magic Mirror spell are searching around the world, looking for surviving groups of people.”

  He shrugged.

  “But it's a big planet and anyone who has survived this long has learned how to hide very well. And hiding from monsters also means that they are hidden from the mages when they do a search. So there you go.”

  “I see. That makes sense, I suppose,” Daniel admitted. “Anyway, getting back to Macy. She's a glass blower. I don't know if you two lads have noticed, but there are now a lot more glass bowls and jars and vases around than there used to be. Those aren't scavenged items. They were made by Macy.”

  “Really? That's amazing,” Aiden said with a wide smile. “I had no idea. Where does she work? In here?”

  Daniel laughed and gestured at the foundry.

  “Not hardly. This soot factory would ruin her glass. We built her a small place in the northeast corner of the courtyard, basically about as far away from the front gate as you can get. Not surprised that you never noticed it, what with all the other buildings that we're constantly working on. Anyway, she works in there with a small kiln and a furnace, quite happy now that she can follow her true calling. She also makes pottery and she's a sculptor as well. Quite a talented young lady.”

  “She sounds awesome,” Malcolm commented. “But what does a glass blower have to do with your new ballista bolts?”

  “Just this,” Daniel said as he leaned forward and tapped on the schematic. “Macy makes these thick glass balls to my specs and I can insert them into the base of the head, here. The glass is thick enough that it doesn't burst when the bolts are shot from the ballista. It only breaks on impact with the target, whatever that might be.”

  “Great,” Aiden said, sounding a little exasperated. “But what do they do? What are they for?”

  Daniel's smile wasn't very pleasant.

  “On their own? Nothing. But when I fill them with acid? Well now, the results are quite...spectacular.”

  Malcolm and Aiden stared at him in shock.

  “Acid? My God, man, you use acid?”

  “That's...” Malcolm groped for a word. “Daniel, that's horrific. It's inhuman.”

  “I would agree, if we were fighting humans,” the blacksmith replied grimly. “But we aren't, are we? We're fighting magical creatures like dragons and wyverns, and soon we'll apparently be fighting flying goblins, of all things. And giants. Giants!”

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  “As if this world hasn't thrown enough at us. So, to defend this castle, we'll have to use every trick at our disposal, even nasty ones like this.”

  He gave the warriors a scathing look.

  “Or would you rather meet the next attack with posies and warm hugs, hmm?”

  The men took a moment to digest what the smith had told them.

  “No, you're right,” Malcolm said reluctantly. “This is a fight for survival, after all. So where do you get acid?”

  “James Whitehall,” Daniel told them. “He used to be a pharmacist, back in the old days. Now he's calling himself an apothecary and he uses local plants and herbs to brew up all sorts of concoctions. Don't ask me how he knows how to do that. Same way that you lads know how to swing a sword, I'd imagine. A gift from the gods when you Changed.”

  Aiden smiled and nodded.

  “Yeah, we aren't the people we used to be, that's for sure. Okay, well, I guess that answers our questions about the new bolts. How effective is the acid? Dragons are pretty tough opponents, you know.”

  “Doesn't matter,” Daniel replied with a harsh laugh. “This stuff will eat through rock, metal, even enchanted steel. I know, because I tested it myself. It'll eat through dragon hide, I guarantee it. Hopefully giant hide as well. I just wish that I'd thought of it before Liliana had gone out and sacrificed herself fighting the primal red.”

  There was a moment of silence when the paladin's name was mentioned and then Malcolm pushed away from the wall and reached down to pat the smith's shoulder.

  “It wouldn't have made any difference, Daniel,” he said gently. “She was destined to meet that beast in open combat, far from the castle's walls. That was the arrangement. None of the ballistae could have reached that monster, even with the new ammunition.”

  “Yes, I suppose that's true,” the blacksmith replied. “Well, I suppose we all have regrets and 'might have beens', don't we? Anyway, if that's all you wanted to know, then off you go.”

  He stood up and walked around the desk.

  “I've got more work than I know what to do with and the apprentices will be in soon, so I'd better get to it. The pair of you take up too much room in here for me to work around you, so get out and let me get on with it.”

  Both Aiden and Malcolm laughed and thanked the smith before leaving the foundry. Outside, they took a moment to breathe in the cool morning air. Even as early as it was, the blacksmith's shop had been very warm.

  “So now we're using chemical weapons against our enemies,” Aiden said as the pair walked back toward the steps leading up to the battlements. “Reminds me of the bad old days.”

  “Yeah? Not me,” Malcolm told him as they started to climb. “Back then, all we had to fight against were other humans. Now it's dragons and God knows what else. And against that, I'll take any advantage that I can get.”

  Several days passed and Nottinghill's population became used to seeing elves wandering around the castle and its grounds. The center of the courtyard had turned into a small open market over the years and Dianis had gi
ven her warriors permission to visit it and barter with the tradesmen there.

  Of course Tamara had told the elves that they could have any goods or services that they wanted, free of charge, but Dianis had politely refused.

  “Your people work hard to grow their crops and create their goods,” she had told the mage. “And we appreciate their labor. So please allow us to give value in return for whatever we might take.”

  And soon the castle was buzzing with excitement. The off-duty elven warriors were fascinated by almost anything made by human hands. Artisan creations, like Macy Wilson's glassware and some of the fancier shirts made by the clothiers, were greatly prized by them.

  Baked goods, spices, statuary, pots and pans. All of it was of interest to the elves.

  Daniel the blacksmith was surprised to find that even his arrow heads and swords met with the visitors approval.

  In return, the elves traded an array of fine jewelry for what they wanted. Rings, brooches, bracelets and fine chain necklaces. The elves seemed to have an almost endless supply of these items and they were of incredibly detailed workmanship. People even whispered that some of the jewelry was enchanted, which increased everyone's desire to acquire as much of it as possible.

  “And just like that, we have bustling economic system,” Tamara said to Sebastian as they observed the market from a high window two weeks or so after the elves had arrived.

  Dianis had informed the mages that there would be constant traffic between the elven world and the Earth, thanks to a stable portal that was located just a couple of miles away from the castle. The Elders had given Chase permission to take Tamara and the other magic-users to show them where it was, but if they had expected something spectacular or amazing, they were disappointed.

  “Where is it, exactly?” Sylvie had asked Chase when they'd arrived.

  They were standing on the edge of a small clearing, about twenty yards across. All of the castle's magic-users had wanted to see it and Malcolm and Aiden had accompanied them, both as protection and because they were curious too.

  Except for the chirping of birds and the sweet-scented breeze dancing through the trees, there was no sound. The clearing was empty.