by Len Gilbert
Hans met the man’s cold eyes and looked back into them.
“Come on,” Diefanthal broke the silence. “The commander has assigned you to a scratch unit for the time being, nevertheless.”
The tall captain slung open the door and led Hans through a set of thin trenches. All along the way, the fanatical eyes of the SS looked distrustfully at him.
“Stillgestanden!”
Diefanthal barked, and three haggard men shot up to attention. One wore a wrinkled Luftwaffe uniform, another was an older man wearing red stripes on his pants, probably a general. The third wore a uniform that looked to be American. He was tall and had jet black hair.
“Kompanie, I introduce our newest Kamerad, Gefreiter Hans Hepner of the Grossdeutschland! Herr Hepner, this is Wilhelm Postal, a General-lieutenant from the 320 division. The man in the middle is Heinz Mertens, a mechanic in the Luftwaffe.”
Mertens tried to give a friendly smile, Postal stared forward and ignored the three of them.
“The third man here is an American prisoner. Texas Ve-v-Veelis. Do not speak to Herr Wheelis unless authorized.”
“YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!”
A call came out from behind the nearby trench corner and a rock-faced SS-man emerged grinning right at Hans. The man grabbed Hans by the hand and shook vigorously.
“WHAT’S THE MATTER? GESTAPO HAVE YOU PUSHING TOO MANY PENCILS?”
“Gustav! Shut up,” Diefenthal shouted.
“I’M-JUST-DOING-MY-JOB,” Gustav shot back.
“This is Gustav,” Diefanthal’s voice turned patient.
“He survived one hour of Stalin’s Organs while in a crater somewhere near Smolensk. He hasn’t been the same ever since. Gustav will also be in your unit. You will continue to dig a bunker for the officers! And then one for yourselves. Venison will be provided this evening at 18:15. Heil Hitler!”
The Sturmbannfuehrer spun around and walked off toward the the bare trees and bleak sunset.
Oxbane
“Wait… Wait… A little closer,” Kasha muttered, his stomach flat against the ground.
The shrill scream of Master Sepp’s whistle interrupted his count. Kasha haphazardly threw the rope and missed the target.
“Nien, nien, nien!” The Master shouted. “You must throw the lasso before the whistle. You must pull down the raiders’ mount, by the neck. Too early and you miss. Too late? And your comrades will be torn to pieces. Now, again!”
Kasha and one other recruit, whose name he didn’t know, picked up their lassos and returned to their positions. Sepp once again led in a feral horse by the snout, while other wolves took part in a mock fracas, clashing their spears and hollering. Kasha’s heart beat harder and harder until he threw the lasso and it curled around the horse’s neck. Just at that moment Vahn, who Kasha recognized as one of the younger recruits, sprung up from his spot, spear in hand, and leaped at the horse.
“Yes, very good Vahn,” Master Sepp had a way of speaking encouragingly, and he was doing so now. “With this you’ll be able to cut down those mounted raiders. And good job throwers. Overall you’ve each done well. Now, you may return to your bunker for provisions.”
Just as Kasha turned toward the bunker, Master Sepp’s voice rang out again.
“Except for you, Herr Kasha. I’ve special plans for you today.”
Kasha felt his heart sink. Was Master Sepp displeased with him? Would he be going to the ‘dog house’ punishment hut? He prayed that wasn’t it. Sepp smiled at him and explained the assignment.
“You are to be part of my security detachment, Herr Kasha. Today we set out east for the edge of the forest. An envoy from the ‘Khanate’ wishes to negotiate, and I intend to hear his offer.”
The news was a big relief. Not only because Kasha wouldn’t be going to the punishment hut, but also because this might mean a return to life as normal.
Their convoy consisted of three tamed, feral horses which were just one handful of the many things which the Lightning Rune Tribe had acquired over the last two moons.
By horseback, the journey through the forests would take four days. All along the way they saw gatherings and villages in disrepair, and most of the inhabitants had obviously departed. The damp blue darkness of the forest reassured Kasha. Even though he was from the Goldgrass Lands, Kasha knew that these forests protected the wolves from the full wrath of the Greenskins.
In fact, since their attack began, a good bit of the Great Forests had since been won back by the Lightning Rune Tribe, but the last vestiges of Khanate power in the forest had to be traversed. The few monsters they encountered seemed aware of the envoy, and some of the Grimeskins even waved and offered cooked meat of various kinds. These Grimeskins seemed eager to set aside their hostility, even when the truce was on such short notice. Kasha didn’t know whether to return the gesture to a Grimeskin who waved to him. Then he remembered what they did to his hometown, and the anger returned. Kasha didn’t wave back.
As the party progressed eastward and around the swamps, more and more sunlight seeped in and warmed the ground. The temple would soon be in their view, as would the edge of the forest. A cold gust of wind greeted them as soon as they stepped out of the treeline.
“Is this it?” Master Sepp asked Kasha.
“Yes sir it is. Even the wolves of this region don’t know who built this offering. We should tread carefully.”
“Right,” Sepp replied. “Strap on these grenades. Kristiyan, there are no bullets left, but take my Mauser anyway.”
That there were no bullets left didn’t matter because Kristiyan didn’t actually know how to operate the hand cannon. Sepp’s metallic crossbow clanked as he lead the other two inside the steeple ruins. Afternoon sunlight spilled into the sanctuary, and already some slender Greenskins were inside strategically placing torches. One of them leaped to attention when they heard Sepp’s footsteps.
“Ah! Um. You Master Sepp?”
“I am. Are you Oxbane?”
“No, no. Oxbane be here soon. He nearly here. We scouting party.”
“Why do you need a scouting party in lands you’ve already conquered?”
“Ah-um. Things here, you know. It really not something you worry about. We mean no harm today,” the Greenskin stumbled on but parroted the words anyway, “Oxbane wanna make alliance.”
Sure enough, Oxbane was close behind. He also did not look quite like a warrior Greenskin.
Oxbane wore a white cap which mushroomed out to a flat top. His white flowing attire looked equally dignified for a Greenskin. Oxbane handed a thick book to an underling who filed the text away.
“Master Sepp, your wolves are quite the warriors. It is an honor to finally see them,” the older Greenskin called out.
Oxbane eyed Kristiyan’s strange cannon, then glanced at the belt of explosives strapped to Kasha’s waist.
“…And such weapons you’ve taught them to use. It’s almost as if you’ve dropped in from another world,” the Greenskin envoy smirked.
“What can I do for you today Oxbane? I believe it was you who called us here.”
“Yes, yes. The Great Orc was very impressed with your tribe, so let me show you what he had in mind.”
Oxbane strode over to an altar in the back and instructed his two escorts to sit down on chopped up logs. Sepp’s party clanked up behind, and Oxbane laid a parchment map down between both parties.
Sepp immediately recognized the line which marked the beginning of the plains. Further east, toward the map’s edge, loomed the Orel Mountains and Cottonwine Lands. The map had red x’s marking what seemed to be the names of tribes. Sepp recognized only Goldgrass and Shattered Paw. He also recognized Balaton Spring at the Great Forest’s south eastern edge.
In the western forested area, the Greenskins put in a black ‘blot’ which represented the portion in the hands of the Lightning Rune Tribe. The black blotch was topped with a white ‘SS.’ From the map, it looked like Sepp’s tribe controlled three-fourths of the Great Forest and
the Northern Swamps. In reality his tribe controlled less than half. The ‘Khanate’ had only a chunk of forest remaining, but possessed a vast territory opening up in the plains and covering most of the map beyond the forest.
“I’ll tell you one thing, Master Sepp,” Oxbane croaked. “You really did surprise us. The Great Orc had to call off the invasion of a powerful kingdom far to the south and east of here. Thanks to your counterattack.”
Oxbane chuckled, “We aren’t so adapt at forest warfare. We had a tough time in the north east as well. Didn’t think Wolves could put up such a grand attack. The Great Orc was impressed with you. Normally we ask for tribute in exchange for peace. But we’ll make an exception this time. He asks for a 100-year agreement. We live side-by-side from now on. In so doing your troops may join us in war if they like, as an ally tribe or even as mercenaries. Your tribe may share in our spoils, and we will respect your borders beyond the Khanate.”
“Well, this seems like quite an offer.” Sepp replied. “What borders did he have in mind?”
“These right here,” Oxbane replied. “We will cede the remaining forests without a fight. But we get the plains which we fought for and won.”
Sepp looked to Kristiyan, who was already shaking his head at the offer. This deal would put an end to Sepp’s ambitions to unite all wolven tribes, and his plan to one day challenge the Khanate’s power on the open plains. This was a compromise, but a comprimise that would also give Sepp a free hand to dominate the whole Great Forest in the west, even the other furres that lived there. Sepp had little use for the lapines and foxen he had seen, but he understood that this deal would bring those furres into his ‘sphere.’
On the other hand, an all-out fight against the vast Khanate would be a gamble, and a gamble that could mean disaster for him and the wolves who trusted him. Kristiyan seemed eager to take that risk, but Sepp already knew better. To put a people’s entire fate on the line. He’d been through that before.
“Tell us more, Oxbane. Say we accept. And I’m not totally convinced. I’m seriously thinking about it but I want to make sure of a few things first.”
“And what is that?” the Greenskin canted his head.
“The Shattered Paw, and all the eastern forest tribes. I want them all returned to me. Prisoners, civilians, even horses. I noticed many villages on the way here were nearly empty.”
Oxbane scoffed.
“Now I know you are not from our world, my dear Master Sepp. To ask that from the Khanate is to ask for the impossible. We’ll give you the horses, and you can have the prisoners back,” he chortled, “but you’ll be disappointed by how few of the latter remain.”
Sepp’s face turned red at that, and Kristiyan snarled at the lathery envoy across the table.
“Fine. Just give us the horses and whichever warriors remain. And let the villagers come home. They didn’t deserve to be moved in the first place.”
Oxbane laughed in Sepp’s face.
“Ghah! No. The Great Orc won’t agree to that, I am sure. The young women folk of those tribes are already carrying our young ones.”
“That’s enough,” Kristiyan barked and stood up, “you’re all going to die!”
Sepp grabbed Kristiyan by the scruff of his neck and placed the tall wolf back down onto the log.
“Since you’re new to the world, my dear Sepp, let me inform you. We species of the Khanate. We have a problem. Few women. For some of us it’s about one in six. For some other species, as bad as one-in-ten. We must keep what we have, or male clans fight with each other. The wolven females are one with us now and—”
“Just be quiet.” Sepp returned. “That is unacceptable, and we’ll fight to the death and drive you right past these mountains. To wherever it is you came from.”
Sepp planted a finger on the pointy Orel Range. Oxbane shook his head.
“What a shame that is. You know, the Raiders you fought were just a scouting force. Soon you will face the Great Orc’s invasion. Many times larger than what you’ve seen. We hate the forests, but we’ll come in anyway and exterminate your tribe. And just to make sure no threat ever comes from the west again, we’ll carry all the remaining she-wolves back to the plains and couple them all.”
Sepp stood up, put on his deerskin hat and tapped his crossbow.
“I’m holding you personally responsible for all this, Oxbane. And when we’ve destroyed your Raiders, I’m going to personally end your life.”
Oxbane sneered and chuckled, “You’ll never get the chance, dear Sepp.”
End of the Line
Hex looked on as the military galley sailed closer and closer to their cramped vessel. It was the Deltians, no doubt, and they were going to press everyone on this boat into some kind of servitude, except himself, but that all depended on a few things. The decision ahead was a hard one to make. Hiding his identity was risky. But if what he suspected about the rulers of Deltia were true, then there was only one way Hex’s journey could continue. As the galley pulled them in, Hex dropped his bag and tucked two of his three tails into his trouser pant. Several boats came up and took passengers off the wave-beaten patrol boat and onto sturdier ground.
Up ahead of them, a stone tower with white smoke floating heavenward heralded their approach to Deltia. The harbor was crowded with colored sails that road atop the boats they were masted to. From a distance he could see the expansive brown seawall that boxed off the city from any high tide.
Deltia was different from what he remembered ten years ago. The city was larger, with taller buildings, and more buildings spanning the shore. Dark blue clouds blocked much of the sunlight from bathing the city in warmth. Winter really was the best time of year in Deltia, at least for Kitsunes such as himself who were used to much colder weather.
As they landed, the Anubian Jackals streamed their way onto the boat and began roughly handling their living cargo. Hex bit his tongue as one of them put their paws on him.
“This fox doesn’t look like he’s worked a day in his life!”
The jackals laughed and shoved Hex into the line of furres, then marched that line all along the busy, golden-hued bricks that marked the arteries of the city. They passed the aqua water pools and toward the auction blocks further back. On the blocks, older children tended to fetch the highest bids, but the most able-bodied males were sought after on the blocks as well. Hex thumbed his nose as they bid him away for a piddling sum.
Hex’s buyer scowled as he came up to him.
“You’ll start on the road crew,” he said, “in five years you’ll be granted freedom if you work hard. Now what’s your name?”
“It’s Plebus, sir,” Hex replied.
“I only ask that you let me keep my belongings, sir.”
“That’s fine. You at least seem well-spoken. As long as you work hard you can keep that elegant bag of yours,” his generous new ‘master’ said. Within an hour they had taken him up through several residential districts crammed with bungalows and apartment blocks standing next to one another. He was quickly added to a road crew, handed a levered pick, and told to join in breaking up an old road that was being worked on.
Despite the winter season, Hex was panting in minutes from hammering away. The other slaves shook their heads at at the ‘foxen’ as he struggled to maintain their pace.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m new to here. Which housing prefect is this?”
The other slave, a lapine male, turned around.
“It’s eight-point hill.”
“Thank you.”
Hex immediately threw down the pick and sprinted through the bustling street. The foreman chased after Hex, but soon, the Kitsune was far down the road and weaving through the crowd. The foreman didn’t even bother to yell.
“Seriously? The new fox is seriously doing that. Stupid idiot won’t last more than a night,” the foreman growled.
“Issue a prefect report and pass his description to the trade gates and port authority.”
Hex sprinted until he
could feel his pursuers slowing down and turning away. It was hard to go by his years-old understanding of the city, but, Deltia’s streets were all still there. He’d have to be out of sight by nightfall, but that wasn’t a problem. Already he was just minutes away from his safe haven. That haven was waiting for him just outside the palace district.
‘MISSION OF PROWERIAN JAEYU’
The building was just as he remembered it, a stately Deltian-styled courtyard building with two soldiers stationed outside. The working embassy of a defunct state. Hex caught his breath and made for the double-doors, ignoring the two soldiers and entering as if it were a daily occurrence. Inside, the embassy’s white walls and marbled floor greeted him just as they had years ago. Only this time, the foyer and halls were devoid of people. The house of Akhamnet was kind enough to keep the compound maintained, it seemed. Hex walked in toward the courtyard and to the service desks.
“What business do you have here?”
A voice called out down the hall. There were five counters. That voice came from the lone occupied desk on the far end.
“I need your help,” Hex said, walking toward the woman. Hex fixed his pant leg and let all three tails spring free. The fellow Kitsune across the desk stood there in shock for a moment.
“Oh, sorry. I don’t recognize your face. Are you a registered resident here?”
“No, I just got here. And I’m from one of the ruling houses.”
“Ah-Um, you’re from the House of—”
“Yes. That’s the one,” Hex cut her off.
“I need to see the ambassador and I also need for you to hide me here for awhile.”
“I-um-sure. How did you manage to get all the way here? Yes, come this way Ambassador Oden is in the back office. We’ll take care of you, Mr. Hex.”
She led him down a series of halls and through the courtyard. On the way, he saw only a handful of staff, but thankfully all were fellow Kitsune. That was a relief, because it meant everyone here could be trusted.