by Robert Adams
The herald shrugged. “It’s a true gamble to take for gospel what any opposing war leader says, especially if he happens to be a known professional, a mercenary with damnall ties to the troops he commands. You are not wrong to suspect that this mysterious Duke Bili of Morguhn may well be dicing with a tapered cup or may well have a double bushel of aces up his sleeves, but I, who have met and talked with him, am a bit more inclined to believe the explanations he gave for wishing to get it all over and done with now.
“For one thing, he is saddled, afflicted, with a gaggle of noble fire-eaters of Kuhmbuhluhn who are growing bored and dissatisfied with the inactivity of a siege. For another, even the steadier vassals of King Byruhn are all a-itch to get back to their lands and prepare them for the planting season, next year. For the last, Duke Bili gave me the impression that he would like nothing so well as to leave New Kuhmbuhluhn with his condotta and go on to a new contract elsewhere, which is, one supposes, understandable in a professional.
“But the crowning reason, the one which leads me to believe all of the rest is truth, is the unpleasant fact that there appears to be a werewolf preying upon the burkers and the garrison of New Kuhmbuhluhnburk. The descriptions Duke Bili rendered of the habits of the creature, the various attacks, the fact that hounds become hysterical and refuse to trail the beast, not to mention the evidence that it survives what would be death wounds to a less uncanny animal, these all lead me to the belief that this bane of that unhappy burk can be nothing save a werewolf.”
The brigadier shuddered. “No wonder he and they are more than willing to sacrifice advantages to get out of that city.
“All tight, Djahn, I’ll dispatch another galloper to our glen, and then you and I will go render your formal report to my staff and the regimental commanders. Did you bring back anything decent to drink, by chance?”
“Indeed, yes,” smiled Sir Djahn. “Duke Bili gifted me a small keg of an old and potent applejack.” He produced his silver flask and proffered it.
* * *
The third night on the road from Skohshun Glen, Johnny Kilgore’s big, bred-up pony ambled into camp with the old Ganik in the saddle and a hogtied captive jouncing uncomfortably belly-down, across the withers. “Guess whut I founded back up the trail a ways, ginrul,” he crowed good-naturedly. “A pegleg Skohshun, thet’s whut. Too bad I ain’ still a bunch Ganik — he’s a young un and’d be raht tenduh and tasty, I ’low.”
General Jay Corbett set aside his tin plate of rabbit stew and stood up to regard the fine-boned, one-legged young man standing unsteadily before him. The pale face was drawn with strain and pain, but it still bore the stamp of firm resolution and the gaze of the eyes was steady, purposeful.
“Ensign Thomas Grey, I presume,” he said wryly. “Does your mother know where you are, Tom?”
“Of course she does, sir,” the boy snapped. “Not that it is needful for her to know, for I am no child, if that is what you meant to imply, General Corbett, sir.”
“How the hell did you get here so fast?” Corbett demanded. “Those charges blocked that defile solidly, of that I’m more than certain. And no man could have gotten a horse over any part of those mountains — of that I’m equally certain.”
A smile flitted briefly about young Grey’s lips. “No, sir, no horse, but a mountain pony; one of those ponies ridden into the glen from without, last spring, by one of Dr. Arensteins wild men. Had I been able to be astride a decent horse, your rearguardsman there would never have caught me. But those little ponies have no endurance, no heart. The cursed beast foundered yesterday.”
Corbett nodded. “So you came on afoot, despite all the odds. Knowing full well that your chances of getting through us and on to the field army ahead of us ranged from infinitesimal to nonexistent, still you hobbled along that deep-rutted trace for more than twenty-four hours. Unless you stopped long enough to sleep, which I doubt.” Thought of the suffering the boy must have endured brought a lump into Corbett’s throat. Gruffly, he demanded, “So, now, what am I to do with you?”
The young man drew himself up to rigid attention. “Sir, I was aware of what you told his lordship you would do to any Skohshun messengers, aware of my fate if caught. if I’ve a choice, I would prefer the sword or the axe to the rope. I have made my peace with God, sir. I am ready to . . . to die.”
Corbett’s throat contracted painfully around the still-present lump and he found it necessary to noisily clear it before he said, “Lord love you, lad, I have no intention of killing you. Give me your parole, and I’ll set you on a mount and let you ride back to the glen, after breakfast, in the morning.”
But Grey shook his head stubbornly. “I would that I could, sir, but I cannot. I have undertaken a grave responsibility and I shall not willingly rest or tarry until my obligations are discharged.”
Jay Corbett sighed. He should have known better, he reflected. Of course such a young man as Thomas Grey would not give a parole unless he intended to abide by its conditions.
The officer shrugged. “All right, Gumpner, we now have a prisoner. Get him fed and bedded down for the night . . . under guard, of course. And please have the corpsman take a look at the stump of his leg, too. I’ll give long odds it’s rubbed raw and bleeding after all that walking on this abomination of a wagon track.”
* * *
As the mindspeak abilities of Sir Geros Lahvoheetos were at best marginal, the initial contact with Bili of Morguhn and all subsequent ones needs must be of a roundabout nature. Bili farspoke the prairiecat Whitetip, who then mindspoke one of the Kindred warriors who had ridden out in search of Bili with Geros, Hari Danyuhlz, who then spoke to Geros and mindspoke that night’s reply back to Whitetip for farspeak transmission to Bili. Even so, it was far and away faster and easier than would have been the only alternative — trying to get gallopers the full width of the plain through the Skohshun lines and back again the same distance.
“The battle is set,” beamed Bili, “for the second hour after dawn, eleven days from today, and I want your force to stay just where you now are until the last possible moment, and give yourselves just enough time to reach the battlefield by the third hour after dawn of that day. It is imperative that no one of you come out of those mountains, for if these Skohshuns even suspect your existence so close, they will surely call off the battle; the only reason they are willing to fight it at all is that they think to win it, considering that they outnumber us.
“Now when you attack them, Geros, whatever you do, don’t just charge in, hell for leather, and try to hack your ways through that pike hedge. That’s just what they will want you to attempt, and it cannot be done. No, sit off at easy dart range and let your archers and Ahrmehnee dartmen and the Kuhmbuhluhn axe throwers whittle the formations down a bit, disorganize the bastards take out their front ranks, their sergeants and any officers you can spot and range. Then you charge.
“These Skohshuns seem to basically scorn missilemen of any sort and they number no archers in their ranks. They do have a few crossbowmen, prodmen and slingers, but hardly enough of them to worry about, and they will probably be on camp guard, anyhow. They have also three highly unusual, very long-range missile weapons called ryfulz which are invariably fatal and very accurate, so if you lose a few men at seemingly impossible distances, don’t be surprised.
“That’s all for now, Geros.
“Now, Whitetip, please mindspeak Count Sandee.”
* * *
Near noon of the day after the capture of Ensign Grey, the vanguard, hearing fast-approaching hoofbeats from up ahead, ambushed and captured another Skohshun. The man they hustled back to the head of the main column was about five years the senior of Thomas Grey, but looked and acted to be of the same breed and kidney.
Corbett questioned the galloper briefly. Again, he offered a parole that was courteously refused. So, then, he pushed on with two captive Skohshuns rather than one. Early the next morning, that number became three and the officer wondered if he might run out of m
en to guard the prisoners, if this pace continued. Like it or not, he might have to begin executing captured Skohshun messenger riders.
But the next stranger, brought in by Merle Bowley, would require no guard. He was another Ganik, he was armed with a Broomtown rifle and he was mounted upon a finely bred, most spirited riding horse. His name was Counter Tremain,
* * *
It had rained every nightlong for the best part of a week, and Bili hoped that the residents of the Skohshun camp — their tents and huts mostly burned up or holed by Kuhmbuhluhnburk engines — were thoroughly miserable. Although dry and well fed, he was none too happy himself, what with the endless rounds of inspections, supervisory duties, receipt of and evaluation of reports arbitration of the seemingly endless disputes among members of the royal council and similar tedious minutiae of command. His days stretched from dawn until late into every night, so he sometimes slept in one of the side chambers of his huge suite rather than take the chance of awakening the twins and Rahksahnah at midnight or beyond.
For her own part, Rahksahnah was not overfond of her mates lengthy absences, either. She had become accustomed to the warm, familiar nearness of his big body whether sharing with him a campaign pallet, a camp bunk or a palace great-bed, and the inability to reach out and touch his flesh, to listen for his steady breathing, to lie with her nostrils full of the dear, unmistakable scent of him caused her to be even more wakeful than she ordinarily would have been through constantly listening with at least half an ear for the twins, who slept in their cradle in one of the side chambers with their wet nurse, a strapping peasant girl whose own baby had been born dead. Pah-Elmuh had used his mental accomplishments to ease the girl’s mind of that tragedy, so that she now was smiling and cheerful in addition to producing quantities of rich milk for the two ravenous young Morguhns.
* * *
The creature was again abroad, after an enforced four days of fasting. So weak was it become that it could barely place one huge paw ahead of the other, and the digestive organs within its shrunken belly were a gnawing, growling, ceaseless torment, They demanded food, instantly — hot, rich, red, still-quivering manflesh. But in its present sorry state, the creature knew without consciously thinking that it was no match for any adult man, armed or no. So it prowled the dark, benighted corridors and stairwells seeking prey less able to defend itself.
Finally, from far off, borne on air currents circulating in the drafty corridors and open stairwells, it caught the mouth-watering scent of blood, fresh-spilled blood, along with the scent of milk, The creature found previously unknown reserves of energy and, keen nose held high to keep the scents, it began to walk faster, following the odors back to their source, almost loping as they became stronger, only slowing its pace as the scent trail led it closer and closer to an area of corridors lit by chain-hung metal lamps and iron-sconced pine torches. Thereabouts, the blood-milk smells were almost overlaid with other smells, smells of danger to the enfeebled creature — adult men, several of them, along with the stinks of polished leather, oiled steel and, distantly or in very small amounts, a hint of something that bred a vague, ill-defined and uneasy dread in the furry breast of the hungry creature of the night.
But then that hunger drowned every other thought and emotion, saving only immediate caution in the stalk. This near, the creature could more closely identify the blood smell, It was moon-blood, and moon-blood meant a female twolegs, most of which were smaller and weaker than most males, thus more easily killed — a partial compensation for the lesser amount of edible flesh on such a carcass, such a compensation as the creature could appreciate in his present lack of full strength.
Moreover, the milk was twolog milk, and that meant the availability of at least one young or infant twoleg, even easier, more vulnerable prey than a female. And its nose told it that all of this hot, tender flesh was just beyond the brightly lit place where stood the males with the long, sharp-pointed things of steel and wood. There were just too many of them to chance a rush at them.
But then, somewhere deep, deep down in a near-forgotten portion of its mind, there emerged the memory of another way, a secret way to safely pass those dangerous male twolegs and attain to the presence of its foreordained victims, its nights kill and its much-needed meal. Turning about, it slunk back up the corridor, head and tail lowered, bound for a certain dimly remembered spot. Its stomach gnawed and growled and gurgled on, but the creature now knew that soon the organ would be stilled while disgesting a full filling of tender, bloody flesh.
* * *
At the first sounds from the twins, the wet nurse had arisen, padded over to the hall door, lit a splinter from the wall torch outside that door, then closed it again, padded back over to light the lamp and taken up the infants. Sitting upon the sinfully soft bed that was hers so long as her milk lasted, she gave each little pale-pink mouth one of her brown, hair-fringed nipples and sat contentedly, rocking slightly on her ample rump and humming softly the strains of a folk dance of New Kuhmbuhluhn, while the babes filled their little bellies, sucking avidly at her engorged breasts.
A squeal of metal on long-unused metal startled her, and she looked in the direction of the sound in time to see a section of the old polished oaken paneling swing open and a huge, horrible, shaggy-furred beast stalk snarling from out the very wall of the chamber, the lamplight making hellish red coals of its eyes. deadly menace in its every movement.
In the brief moment before stark tenor paralyzed her, she uttered a single, piercing scream, clutched her innocent charges close to her breast and stared helplessly at the slavering predator, now bare yards distant.
Chapter XIII
Between mouthfuls of venison steak and baked wild sweet potatoes, Counter Tremain had been telling of all that had happened with Erica Arenstein and the rest of them since Merle Bowley had left Skohshun Glen in search of more ammunition for the rifles. He had progressed to near the present time.
“I nevuh thought I’d come to whar I’d cheer fer a damn Kuhmbuhluhner, but them bastids is flat beatin’ the evuh-Iovin’ shit out’n them Skohshun pricks! And they doin’ ’er ’thout evuh so much as comin’ out’n the dang city, too. And that thar tears the assholes of them damn Skohshuns up suthin fierce, ’count of they knows they got mo’ mens then the Kuhmbuhluhners and they jest dyin’ fer to get ’em to come out an’ fight or to git in thet city after ’em, and the bugtits cain’ do neethuh one.
“Merle, you recolleck them thangs the fuckin’ Kuhmbuhluhners had whut would throw great big ole rocks awn to the main bunch camp fum three ridges away? Well, looks like them bastids is done dragged them friggin’ thangs clear up here, ’cause they got ’em a-hint the wall of New Kuhmbuhluhnburk and, night I lefted, they’d throwed fireballs big as a warhoss’s ass inta the Skohshun camp, set purt’ near the whole thang to fahr, then cuminceted a-throwin’ bunches of rocks awl ovuh the fuckin’ place so it looked like it wuz flat rainin’ rocks! So miny of the bosses and awl wuz eethuh gettin’ hurtid by them rocks or a-frahted by the fires, some Skohshun ossmfuh, he grabbed him ever swinging dick he could find and set us to a-leadin’ the critters out’n the back gate. Well, I had mah ryfuhl crost of my back, ’cause we’d awl grabbed ’em and awl the othuh stuff of ours we could whin owuh tent cominceted to burn, so soon’s me and thet nice hoss was out’n thet friggin’ camp good, I jest jumped in thet saddle sumbody’d done not took awf’n him yet and then I made tracks ’crost thet plain, you bettuh b’lieve.
“It’uz two, three othuh bullies lawng of me to start out, but mah hoss wuz a lot fastern they mules and I cain’ say whut happund to ’em.
“Well, I rid souf fer near a week, a-ridin’ by nahts and a-layin’ up in the days, but I had to move slow, ’count of the bugtit Skohshuns out lookin’ fer they cows whut awl stampeded the same naht I skeedaddled, but I fin’ly got to the dang mountins.
“But them mountins is plumb full of mo’ damn sojuhs — Kuhmbuhluhners, Ahrm’nees, eevuhn Moon Maiduhns. Aftuh the secun’ tahm
they damn near caught me, this ole boy, he come back down awn the fuckin’ plain. Counter Tremain don’ wawnt no dang Ahrm’nee a-drankin’ beeuh out’n whu useta be his haid bones, thank you kin’ly.”
The riddle of the three missing Ganik bullies was solved a couple of days later, when Johnny Kilgore and Counter chanced across them camped in the woods and trying to decide what to do with their new-won freedom, where to go now that all of the Ganik outlaw bunches had been dispersed or driven out of New Kuhmbuhluhn.
Corbett simply added them to his command as scouts, under the command of Skinhead Johnny Kilgore and Merle Bowley.
* * *
Ravenous as he was, the creature was distracted by the excited voices of men, the poundings of fists and pike butts on the door — which the wet nurse had, as instructed, carefully bolted after lighting her splint from the wall sconce. Then there was another shriek of a twoleg female from close behind him, whereupon the attacks on the door redoubled, intensified.
Rahksahnah had been awakened from a light sleep by the single scream of the wet nurse. Scrambling across the width of the great-bed, she padded over the thick carpets to the door between the chambers. She opened it and took but a single step into the smaller room.
The wet nurse, nude to the waist, her brown hair disordered, was crouched far back in the bed alcove, her dimpled arms pressing the nursing twins tightly against her body, her brown eyes wide and bulging in an excess of tenor, her mouth wide, too, but only a rasping whine emanating from it.
Rahksahnah screamed, even while her mind beamed out a frantic message, “Bili, it is here, the killer wolf is here, in our suite, stalking the nurse and our children!”
* * *