WolfHeart

by K. Allen Cross

  Taking this village had been simple. They came in before dawn under the silence spell the wizards had put on Lash's troops. They entered the huts unnoticed and captured every elf alive. The only sounds were the pleas for mercy from the women and the terrified cries of the children.

  Reaching the end of the line of prisoners, Lash turned on a heel and started back down. There were sixty-eight males, enough to serve his purposes. In the elven tongue, he announced, "You are now my servants, you will do as I command."

  One blue-eyed youth glared up at him. "I'll die first!"

  Lash grinned evilly at him. "No, they will." he said, pointing to the women. "When one of you displeases me, one of your females gets whipped. If you disobey outright, one dies. When the women are all dead, I'll start on the children."

  One of the older elves, with more gray than brown in his short hair, had tears in his eyes. "Leave us alone, we have done nothing to you!"

  "Silence!" Lash barked. "All of you will do as you are told! Open your mouths again, and I will begin whipping your women!” Stepping out to survey the whole line, he said, "You better listen closely. Each of you will get a uniform and a sword. There is a battle to fight. Once this is done, you will all be freed. Any treachery will be met with a woman's death.” He gestured at the ravens that lined the edge of the roof across the street. "They will see and report to me if any of you fails to give battle or is foolish enough to turn on those at your backs. I will not hesitate to behead every woman and child in this village.” Pausing for a moment to let it sink in, he added, "All of you fight bravely, and none of them will be harmed."

  "We cannot fight other elves!" a plump male stated.

  Turning to a hoarc, Lash said, "Bring me one of the women.” To the plump elf, he said, "You will be fighting halskaken and humans, neither of which you love. For your tongue, this one gets five."

  A look of shock crossed the elf's face. "No, please!" he whined.

  "Six!" Lash snapped, "You want her to have more?"

  The frightened elf had his mouth opened to plead. It was all he could do to stay quiet.

  Lash took his bullwhip and unrolled it as the hoarc dragged a young female by her pale hair. Her eyes were shut tight as she cried, twisting in vain to free herself. The hoarc pulled up on her wrists, forcing her arms vertical, and made her kneel with her forehead touching the ground.

  This was something the black knight had learned to like because of his master, Hans. Torturing a pretty creature like this was one of life's few great pleasures. He could have her dress off without ever touching her skin, gentle snaps would tear it from her and barely leave a red mark.

  That was not what he had planned. Picking his target, he pulled back and brought the whip forward. Jerking back at the right instant, he landed the tip in the middle of her right buttock with aloud crack. Bits of cloth and flesh flew as she tried to jerk upright, howling in pain. The second snap landed on the side of her left thigh. She managed to kick herself prone, flopping and screaming. The third he placed mid-back, careful not to hit her spine. He waved for the hoarc to let her go.

  The next two he did in quick succession. The fourth one, also to her back, made her arch against the pain, her piercing scream turned into a pitiful moan. He laid the fifth one on her lower back then waited for her to turn over as he knew she would. She did, and as soon as her belly and chest was thrust up in an attempt to protect her stinging back, he let the last one go, carefully guiding the whip to her chest. The small hump of her right breast exploded into a red spray. The woman jerked half upright, face wide with shock, in too much agony to even make a sound. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell limp. He allowed himself to enjoy the sight of her unmoving, bleeding body for a moment as wailing cries of horror came from the other women. The sounds of elves vomiting came from both sides of the street.

  Waving for the hoarc to drag her back, he returned his attention to the males. The ones who were not emptying their stomachs met him with solid stares of pure hatred. Catching the eyes of the now white-faced plumpelf, he smiled. "Now you have seen what a whipping means. Burn this into your memories, do not forget it!” Hefting his whip, he announced, "This is my weapon of punishment, so I'll let you decide how horrid it will be if I have to take heads.”

  Strolling along the line, he ordered them to their feet and had the hoarcs lead them out of the village. He watched them go, quite pleased with himself.

  Lantharum, one of his wizards, came up beside him. The man’s black robes bore silver symbols over the chest and down both sleeves. Quietly, he said, "Sir Lash, the ravens have reported druids and halshaken are coming, only a few miles due south. Tayan Montara is with them."

  Lash frowned--word from the Master herself was that no harm was to come to that one. Dire consequences far worse than death were promised to whomever raised a sword to him. "Our Master said not to harm him, but she did not say we could not bind him. Hold him if you can. If elves get him, fine."

  "Master Hans has reported Elradian troops are alsoon their way in force." Lantharum grinned, "It will be quite a show."

  Lash knew Calain had led humans on a killing spree into Elrad then retreated to Newburg. Now, the remnants of Longforest power were headed towards the town. With his elves in Elradian uniforms attacking the druids and the real elven army on their way hunting for humans, blood was going to run in rivers. He wished he could sit on a rooftop and watch the carnage.

  "Yes, indeed, it would be fun to watch.” He grinned then with a shake of his head, he said, “No time--we have work to do. No matter the outcome of the battle, make sure all of our elven friends die then meet us two days north."

  Nodding absently, Lantharum glanced over at the women and licked his lips. "There are more than enough slaves here. May I have a couple?"

  "Not until Hans gets his pick. You'll get to look over what isn't taken when we meet. First, go kill some druids," Lash told him sternly.

  The wizard scowled. "Save at least one good one for me. I tire of old women and mangled wenches. I serve you well, and Ideserve a decent female or two for my experiments!"

  "You do good work for our Master," Lash corrected. "I will save a pretty one, unmarked.” He looked beyond him to the procession of hoarcs following the elves. "Your troops are leaving, perhaps you should be with them."

  Lantarum held back a comment and bowed. "For the glory of our Master," he said formally. With a wave of his hand, he sent the ravens to wing then turned and walked off.

  Lash waited until they had gone then turned to the women. Their crying had subsided; those near the unconscious one knelt with their heads turned away.

  "Kalinara needs attention. May I be allowed to save her life?"

  The woman who spoke knelt with as much dignity as one could. Her face was a mask as she voiced her request. Lash sensed she held some kind of power here in this flyspeck of a farming village. He did like the golden color of her hair and the fire in her blue eyes. Her sacklike peasant's clothes could be changed for more suitable translucent silk if her body held the same fine quality as her face did. This one he would keep for himself.

  "You can heal her?" he asked lightly.

  "I can tend to her with salve and bandages--she is bleeding to death."

  Her voice held no hatred, just cold fact. Lash waved a hand at the hoarc near her.

  "You, get this one up and collect what she needs. Do not unbind her until after you return.” To the woman, he said, "Any treachery, and a child dies."

  "I am not going to try to escape," she assured him. The hoarc behind her jerked her to her feet by her wrists. Lash was amazed at how she could look so graceful getting up in such a manner. Breaking her was going to be fun.

  He ordered for the women to be tied to each other by their necks and hobbled. By the time this was done, the golden-haired one returned with the hoarc carrying the basket of items she'd had him collect. Lash had his other wizard inspect the basket for anything magical or any weapons. Satisfied there was nothi
ng but cloths and jars of ointment, he had the woman unbound to attend the one on the ground.

  "Get ready to move out!" he barked. "Children in the wagons, slaves in front. Barkil, you and your hoarcs take the lead."

  Watching over the assembly, he had his horse brought to him. There was a commotion as the hoarcs tried to get his now semi-conscious victim to her feet. The woman who had wrapped her wounds was trying to persuade them to let her in the wagon with the children.

  Lash mounted and rode over to them.

  "Put the wounded one out of her misery. This one goes in the slave line." He grinned.

  The woman’s eyes widened.

  "Please let her live--Kalinara has done nothing. She will make a good slave," she pleaded.

  "She's deformed." he told her with a smirk then nodded to the hoarc holding a sword to Kalinara's throat.

  "Fresh meat!" the hoarc hissed and slashed her deep.

  The woman who had just done her best to bandage her niece now watched her die like an animal. A hoarc flung her body over his shoulder and started off. A single tear ran down her face as she looked up at Lash.

  "I am Thalansala. Jenesalinthia is my great-niece. Her husband is Eric Redman. Does this mean anything to you?"

  "Should it?" Lash laughed, wondering if she was trying to be ransomed.

  Her body was quaking in anger, but her voice remained even. "Sooner or later, the Red Man will find out what you've done here."

  Lash leaned forward in his saddle. "And this is suppose to scare me?" he asked, never losing his grin.

  He then noticed the hoarc that had been binding her ankles start to back off, casting a worried look at the elf. The other hoarcs also put a few steps between themselves and her.

  The woman met Lash's gaze defiantly. "You now know who will kill you."

  He gritted his teeth. One mention of a myth, and the hoarcs suddenly turned cowards.

  "Let him come, I will destroy him. I am going to take great pleasure in flaying you, slave!" he spat. Glaring at the hoarcs, he growled, "Put her in line--move!”

  Making sure the hoarcs obeyed, he watched until the woman was tied to the last in line. With everyone in place, he got the column started north.

  * * *

  Through the eyes of the ravens, Lantharum watched the path of the druids and halshaken. Not wanting to fight druids in the woods where their power was greatest, he positioned his forces behind a rock wall with an open field before them. The elves were obedient, kneeling tight against the wall with the hoarcs. He cast a spell to obscure them and waited.

  The wait wasn't long. On the far side of the field, four groups appeared. They walked cautiously in a line, andLantharum noted that, behind the armed humans and halshaken, robed figures accompanied each group. He knew at least a few, if not all, were wizards. He made the decision then not to send the hoarcs out. They would not survive, and there was little he could do without endangering himself.

  Bending low, he dispelled his magic and said just loud enough for the elves to hear, "They are coming. On my command, the elves attack. Hoarcs, shoot arrows until the elves close on them. Remember, elves, the lives of your families depend on how well you fight."

  One elf nodded grimly. "We know we will die. You hurt our families, and every one of us will return to haunt you."

  "Noted, elf, " Lantharum said. He didn't fear ghosts or flimsy threats from a doomed elf. He did need their cooperation, so he managed to look sincere. Closing his eyes to look through those of the raven perched in the tree off to the side of the field, he saw the enemy had come halfway across.

  "Attack!" he hissed.

  "For our kin!" one of the elves yelled and jumped over the wall. The others poured after him, screaming their fear more than any real battle cry.

  The raven watched the people in the middle of the field pause in confusion. They looked at each other as elves raced at them, waving swords. The confusion ended as arrows started raining down around them.

  Few arrows hit. Shields came up, andwizards raised their arms to deflect the shafts to land harmlessly behind them. A few of the arrows turned in mid-air to go sailing back, nearly making it to the wall they were shot from. There was one last volley as the elves met them; a few elves fell as arrows struck their backs.

  The elves didn't fare well at all. Being farmers, they were unaccustomed to battle. Though they outnumbered their foes, they fell like wheat before the scythe. The few who only defended themselves lasted a bit longer than the first swing of a sword. Even a scantily clad woman tore into them, beating and kicking them with her spinning staff and lightning-fast feet. The wizards watched carefully for any other attacks as the elves were slaughtered without any use of magic. This group was very organized.

  Letting the ravens take flight, Lantharum opened a Gate to the main camp, which sat at their rendezous miles north of the village. Hustling the hoarcs through the shimmering oval in the air, he followed them and shut the magical portal.

  He went down the row of tents to that of Hans, guarded by an elven female clad in thin white silk that covered her without hiding her shape beneath. Her eyes were fixed forward as she held a spear with both hands. She had no mind--her name, her very self had been burned out of her head. The only thing she knew were the commands given her.

  Aware of this, Lantharum didn't attempt to enter the tent. Standing out of the zombie's reach, he called, "Master Hans, Lantharum here. I have come with news."

  "Guard, allow him to enter."

  There was no response from the woman, but Lantharum knew it was now safe to go in. As he passed her, he reached up to fondle her. Her flesh was warm and supple; the body was still alive. She had to be a fresh one; usually they became cold and stiff after a week. The ones that were a few weeks old deteriorated badly.

  Pulling the tent flap aside, Lantharum found Hans lounging in his armchair. His light hair and handsome features made the wizard wonder why he had to remove women's minds to have his way with them. Another woman, this one human with thick dark hair, knelt beside him, holding the tray with his lunch on it. She wore the same transparent silk and had a much more rounded figure than the elf outside. The blank stare was the same.

  Hans sat up, taking his feet from the footstool in front of him. Motioning to it, he said, "Lantharum, have a seat and tell me your news."

  Obeying, the wizard took a long look at the curvy brunette before he shifted his attention to his master.

  "Sir Lash has captured more elven slaves. I used the males to attack the oncoming druids. No hoarcs were seen, nor was I. I'm sorry to say none of the druids were killed--the elves were rather poor fighters."

  Nodding briefly, Hans took a sip from his cup and put it back on the tray. "Is that all?"

  "Tayan Montara was with them. I dared not cast magic."

  Hans took on a thoughtful look. "Our Master said we could not touch him. The elves can, however. A troop of elves entered Newburg today--if he gets killed in the fighting then we are blameless."

  "Should I assist in convincing the elves that humans are out to destroy them?" Lantharum asked.

  "Our Master is taking care of that. The elven king has been convinced that all humans are against him. The governor in the province also believes firmly that all humans are their enemies. While they fight, our job is to get our forces deep into Elrad unseen and wait for our Master to give us orders. Lash is on his way?"

  "Yes, with slaves and their children."

  Looking at the slave, Hans told her, "Eat the food on that tray, drink from the cup.”

  The slave did as she was told, mechanically stuffing the food into her mouth.

  "They last longer if you feed them," Hans noted. "We'll leave as soon as Lash arrives and we process his slaves. Go to Gast's camp outside Newburg, tell him to pull back and go north. Our friends at the river forks have done their work and will be joining us in the mountain caves until we are assembled. There we wait for the word to march on to Elrad."

  Rising, Lantharum bowed.
"Yes, master. Shall I return here?"

  Hans rubbed his chin in thought. "No, return to Lash, tell him to collect all the slaves he can on his way here. We'll be needing them."

  "For what?" Lantharum asked. Besides the two he had here, the wizard knew Hans had a dozen more that hadn't started looking bad yet.

  Hans broke into a grin. Reaching over, he ran a hand over the brunette. "I have plans for them besides pleasure. You'll find out when the time comes."

  * * *

  Tayan stood amid the broken bodies, his sword clenched with white knuckles. The elf he looked down on was no soldier. First of all, the boy was too young. The calloused palms of the dead hands told him the boy was a farmer. The other bodies looked the same. Some were older, and a few were very old, much too old to be engaged in combat unless this was a last resort. The uniforms they wore were tattered. He walked through them searching for any signs of life, praying that one still lived to tell him why they had attacked. He had no such luck.

  Being hot for hoarc blood after the rout at the river, he had believed too quickly that these elves were hoarc imitations when Mother Frieda and Sister Amber said they sensed evil in front of them. He slashed away freely, still seeing the smoldering bodies they had left behind. Now, as he gazed at the broken body of a plump elf, bile crept into his throat. They had heroically defeated a pack of farmers.

  Scorpio returned to the middle of the field. Walking up to Trelem, he told the druid, "There is no sign of the archers, they must have fled."

  "There were no tracks leaving, they had to have left by magical means," Odif added.

  Joining them, Amber offered, "Once we killed the elves, I no longer sensed evil."

  "Those elves were not evil," Odif snapped. "They left us no choice but to kill them.” Waving her staff at the bodies, she said, "They looked more frightened than fierce, like they were desperate."