* * * * *
It was a long walk back to the hostel, especially half drunk. It was past midnight before they retired to bed in the small, three bedroom unit. It was one of the more expensive areas of accommodation the hostel had to offer.
Rex lay on his side, sleep taking him immediately. He slept until the early morning hours. Awaking, his mind clambering up through the layers of numbness as consciousness reasserted itself. Through half open eyes, he lay on the bed looking through bleary eyes out the lead lined glass window to the silent, black town outside. With the unit situated upstairs, it gave him a good view out over the rooftops. The full moon had only recently risen and its light illuminated everything in its wake. Rex squinted against the light and was about to roll over and try for slumber once more, when he noticed movement in the distance.
A man was climbing up onto the roof of a building. He was so far away; he stood only as tall as half the length of Rex’s index finger. Rex watched, wondering what on earth someone would be doing climbing around the rooftops at such an early hour of the morning. He was running from The Watch after stealing something, or worse. Silhouetted against the light of the full moon, the man turned and Rex’s eyes snapped open. It stood like a man, moved like a man, but the elongated snout could mean it was no human. Although impossible to see at distance, Rex would place money on the fact that where fingers should have been were six inch talons. Dropping to all fours, the creature sniffed, bounded across to another rooftop then stood tall, lifting its snout to the sky above. The long, deep, distant howl reached Rex’s ears moments later.
“Werewolf!” he roared, throwing the covers back and jumping to his feet.
A mighty crash from the next room indicated someone had rolled out of bed and crashed to the floor.
“I’m up!” slurred Rob, followed by some choice words.
Asger appeared sword in hand. “Where?” he asked.
“East,” replied Rex tugging on his boots. “On the rooftops.”
Asger brushed past him and stood looking out the window. The distant silhouetted figure dropped to all fours, disappearing from view.
“Gone to ground,” muttered the Northman. “We move,” he said leaving the room. “We move now.”
“I say Rob, are you still alive?” Rex asked as he and Asger stood waiting for the Highlander.
The Scotsman strode out his room, rubbing his shoulder, eyes bleary; hair springing out at all angles. “Aye,” he said, strapping his sword belt in place.
The trio loped through the dark streets, holding their sword hilts to prevent the weapons from tangling in their legs, tripping them. They dodged down narrow alleys, across wide, vacant streets and navigated through the slums of the town. Without sewerage, people emptied their chamber pots out onto the street. It was a stinking, vermin infested place of poverty, where hunger and sickness reigned supreme.
“I just stepped in shit!” roared Rob from behind, his voice angry. “Human…shit!”
Asger chuckled.
Rex jumped over a body lying in the street. Whether the man was dead, or asleep, it was difficult to say. Spotting a building taller than the others, Rex headed for it. It was the barracks building of The Watch. Almost all The Watch’s work was centred in the slum areas, where most of the crime arose. It was a two story building made from stone. Turning to the others, Rex signalled for silence. Asger and Rob disappeared into the shadows and waited.
Rex wedged fingers between stones and began to climb. He ascended the building at speed and within moments was standing on the roof, which was also stone. Regaining his breath, he looked out over the town, where light from the full moon continued to make visibility easy. He scanned the rooftops, but saw nothing. Cursing, he placed hands on hips and waited.
Voices in the distance, but growing closer came to him. A group of men. He descended to a knee and then lay flat on his belly.
“I done noth’n wrong!” shouted a voice.
“The hell you didn’t! You tore him apart like some bloody animal!” came the gruff reply.
The Watch guessed Rex, returning from some early morning patrol. If the trio were caught here, they would be arrested in an instant. Come daybreak, they would hang. There was the sound of a scuffle, grunting, growling, and then a dull thud as a punch was landed, followed by a pain filled shriek.
“You aint goin’ nowhere sonny,” the same gruff voice spoke.
“I’m innocent I tell ya. You got the wrong man!”
“If I was paid a shillin’ every time I heard that, I’d be a king!”
Then they were inside the building, the door slammed shut and the stone walls smothered any further noise.
Rex stood once more and paused. Movement on a nearby rooftop immediately caught his attention. The deep, long howl, much louder this time, echoed out over the town. The werewolf was less than a mile away. Burning the direction into his mind, Rex slid over the edge of the roof and descended the wall as fast as he ascended it.
“Let’s go!” he whispered. He could not see where the others were, but knew they were close by, hiding. Without a backward glance, Rex turned and ran, darting down a side alley, putting as much distance between them and The Watch house as possible.
“I still stink like human shit!” hissed Rob.
“You always did,” replied Asger, grinning.
“Shut your trap, both of you!” Rex shot over his shoulder.
Entering the Eastern province of town was a breath of fresh air. The wealth was far greater, bringing with it proper sewerage. Not to mention clean cobbled streets, pristine homes without the stink of the Western quarter. Well, apart from Rob.
A thud from above brought Rex to a skidding halt. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of the werewolf jumping over their heads to a rooftop on the far side of the street.
“There!” roared the Englishman.
Sprinting towards a building, he jumped onto a wooden barrel and leapt, grabbing hold of a roof support beam high above. The hard wood was two feet across at least and held his weight with ease. Pulling himself onto the roof top, he saw the creature darting away. It leapt across onto another rooftop next to the building upon which he stood. Moments later, both Rob and Asger clambered up beside him.
“We see you, skin changer!” shouted Rex, following at a sprint.
The werewolf stopped mid stride and turned to look at them. It seemed to sniff the air. Dropping to all fours, the creature waited.
“Damn polite of him to wait for us,” shouted Rex.
Sailing across onto the next roof, Rex trotted to a stop and drew his rapier. Closer to the creature, he saw how large it was. Even on all fours, its shoulder came up to his chest. A stink of shit wafted over him and Rex knew without looking that Rob was beside him. A moment later came a hiss of steel as Asger drew his blade.
The werewolf snarled, baring a maw full of long, razor sharp teeth, saliva hanging in long strands. The trio had only fought and killed one werewolf in the past. It had been a dwarf compared to this monstrosity. But something was different. The blood red eyes flicked from one man to another, calculating, thinking. The thing that stood before them seemed to be a creature driven not by instinct and aggressive reaction, but by intelligence. Unheard of in the world of the lycanthrope.
“Steady chaps,” said Rex.
Cocking its head, listening to Rex’s voice, it stood on two legs, looking down at the men. It must have been close to eight feet tall.
“What are you waiting for you bastard!” roared Rob, charging forward. Shouting a war cry, he shoulder charged the beast and brought his claymore down in a sweeping cut which bit deep into the werewolf’s leg.
Asger and Rex reacted immediately, moving to support their comrade. Screaming in pain, it back-handed the Highlander with a powerful paw. Rob left the ground and crashed down nearby, losing the grip on his claymore. He grunted in pain and rolled onto his knees, now armed only with his knife and shield.
“Is that it?” growled Rob, blood bubbling f
rom his lips. He regained his feet, followed by the claymore. “Oh, you’ll have to do better than that laddie.”
But the creature was busy dodging a mighty cut from Asger. It charged forward with a bellow, but the Northman brought his shield around to fend it off. It slammed into him, causing him to almost lose his footing. Clenching his teeth, he pushed it back with his shield. The mighty jaws closed down around the rim of the shield, shattering the wood. Taking a step back, the giant Scandinavian kicked the werewolf in the knee and then thrust his sword deep into its abdomen. Asger threw the useless, broken shield away, glaring at the shrieking creature.
Rex had taken the time to flank the beast and thus far had remained unnoticed. With deep wounds to both its leg and belly, it paid no attention to the Englishman running in from the side. Leaping as high as possible, Rex landed on its powerful shoulders and drove the rapier deep into its meaty neck. Blood exploded from the wound and the werewolf collapsed. It was dying. Its movements slowing, blood, black in the moonlight, pumping from its body to wash out over the building’s roof. Just before death could claim it, the creature raised its head and released a series of loud howls, differing from any they had heard before. The werewolf’s eyes closed and its chest ceased moving.
“Far easier than I expected, I must say,” said Rex.
Before the others could reply, several distant howls echoed out over the town. If Rex’s ears had not deceived him, there were at least three of them. Silence followed and the men looked at one another, concern now creeping over them.
The howls came again, this time much louder. They were closing on the trio’s position, and closing fast.
“Move!” hissed Rex. He disappeared over the edge of the roof and dropped to the ground.
Asger and Rex helped the Highlander back to the cobbled street below, and the trio sprinted away. The Scotsman, even in great pain, was able to keep up with the others, although he guarded the left side of his chest with his arm. Broken ribs more than likely, suspected Rex.
“I say, we might be done for here chaps,” said Rex with cheer. They negotiated alleys and streets, leapt over sleeping beggars and dodged excrement. They had no clear destination other than away from the howls. The hunters had become the hunted.
“Can’t…go…much…further,” panted Rob, fresh blood bubbling from his lips and staining his beard. “I’ll hold…them off…you run.” The Highlander stopped, turned and drew his claymore, his breath coming in short, sharp rasps.
“The hell you will, my boy,” said Rex stopping and moving to stand beside his comrade.
Regaining his breath, Asger moved to stand on the other side of Rob, drawing his sword.
“If we must die,” said the Northman. “Then let us do it here, together, with a sword in our hands and a curse upon our lips.”
“I say, well said Asger. Well said,” agreed Rex, drawing his rapier, tutting as he glanced at the blood staining the metal. “Horrible stuff,” he said. “Just horrible.”
The howls came again, deafening in volume.
Then they appeared.
As Rex expected, there were three of them, two running on all fours and the third, in the centre, on its hind legs. They came at full sprint, slavering and snarling, red eyes emanating intelligence, hunger and fury. They wanted death; they wanted to rip, rend and maim; they wanted revenge.
The beast in the middle must have been close to ten feet in height, a veritable giant. Asger moved to intercept it. Rex may have been a small man, slim of build, holding a rapier that looked like a toy against the werewolf that peeled off to face him, but he was agile. The beast came at him full tilt and leapt, maw open in preparation to tear out his throat, but the razor sharp teeth bit into thin air. Regaining its feet, the werewolf looked around in confusion. Where once there had been a man standing before it, lay an empty street. Blistering pain exploded in its back, its leg, arm, neck. It whirled around to face the grinning little man, blood soaking the fur and dripping to the street. Leaping headlong, mighty jaws snapping, it once again failed to secure its prey. Rex leapt to the side and then lunged forward burying the razor sharp rapier almost to its hilt.
* * * * *
Asger lay unconscious against a wall, sword shattered, blood oozing from his nostrils, deep claw marks across his chest. The giant werewolf stood over its quarry, growling with satisfaction. Should it devour the human now? Or help its pack kill the others?
Against The Odds Page 2