The Wolves Of War

by Greg Curtis

  After that he just lay there on the ground nursing his latest bruises, and silently cursed the horse, the gods who had created the miserable beasts, and whoever had been so stupid as to think they should be ridden. Of course the rangers all around him just laughed. Even the other horses were laughing. He was sure of it. The verdan horses were just smart enough to be mean!

  Meanwhile the Princess was completely forgotten as she ran towards them. But then it turned out she wasn't charging toward him to try to kill him as he'd thought. She was running to her brothers who each lay across the back of a horse a few yards behind. It made a change he thought.

  It was a bitter reunion. Briagh knew only some of her story. Mostly the things that Father Argen had told him. But she'd had little contact with her brothers since the transformation. So while she knew what had happened, and had surely witnessed her father's madness, the reality of her brothers' madness had not impacted on her. Today it did.

  They, unlike their father, had no speech. And they did not walk either. Instead they had this unfortunate four-legged gait that was neither that of dog or man. And they howled. Though physically they were men, their minds were completely those of dogs. Their state of mind had made the journey back difficult as they had had to be restrained and slung over the backs of the horses like baggage.

  So when she reached them, screaming and crying like a young girl, and they howled and tried to free themselves so they could lick her, it broke her in some way. Her face almost seemed to crack in front of them. Even lying there on the ground Briagh could see that. Maybe he could even feel a trace of pity for her. But it didn't change the fact that she was his enemy. That she'd tried to kill him twice and would no doubt try again.

  “I see your riding is up to its usual high standard!” Careyn suddenly appeared behind him, trying to hide her amusement and failing.

  “The accursed nag hates me!” Briagh told her ruefully. And he was sure the horse did hate him. He just didn't know why. Still, he got to his feet and brushed himself off after rubbing at his newest bruises. He hoped he would never have to get back in a saddle again.

  “The horse is a good judge of character!” This time a smile did find her face. “But mostly she's verdan. Smarter than the horses you're used to. She knows you're inexperienced and nervous and she doesn't like it. She wants a rider she can trust.”

  Briagh didn't answer her, choosing instead to keep rubbing at his latest injuries and watch the tragedy unfolding in front of them as the Princess greeted her brothers. And despite everything Briagh felt genuinely sorry for her as he watched her trying to contain her emotions as she held each of her brothers in turn and then had to let the retainers see to their needs. But she missed the greater truth, he thought. She still had a family. Not everyone was so lucky.

  He also watched Endorian as he in turn watched the royal family. And he saw a man with horror filled eyes even if his face couldn't express it. The Princess would not accept that though. She would always believe that Endorian had done this to her family and no matter how many soothsayers advised that he had told her the truth when he said he was not responsible would change that. She would probably also always blame him too. There was no reason in her path. But then Father Argen had said that she was in some ways still a broken little girl who had come home to find her family hurt, and she always would be. Briagh was beginning to realise that the priest was right. Damn him!

  In time the family reunion came to an end with both the princes released from the bonds that tied their feet and their gags removed. Then half a dozen retainers came forward to lead them away to wherever it was that they would be staying. The Princess went with them too, though she did manage to flash a look of pure hatred at Endorian as she walked past him. After that it was the morph's turn to leave and he walked slowly and awkwardly out of the compound, and headed for the town. Briagh didn't know where he was staying, but at least it wasn't the gaol.

  After that the rest of the people started leaving too. The priests and the others from the temple gathered together whatever possessions they had and were led out of the compound by Argen and a few guards, perhaps to find accommodation for the night. No doubt the horses were glad to see them leave since many of them had been forced to carry two riders for the past weeks.

  Finally Captain Hillaren gave the command and the rangers wheeled about and trotted out. Which suddenly left Briagh standing there alone with Careyn and a few other guards. Suddenly he was nervous. The more so when the Lord gestured for him to approach.

  “Lord Daelyn.” Briagh greeted him with a polite nod, but nothing more. The last thing he needed was to offend the Lord – again.

  “Briagh, you have performed a valuable service for Wynde Par and in doing so proven yourself a good citizen. A place has been found for you in Perna Sil.”

  With that the Lord nodded to him, and promptly turned and left, leaving Briagh standing there wondering what had just happened. It seemed he wasn't going back to gaol. At least no guards were coming for him. But was he getting his property back? He didn't know. But he couldn't see it anywhere. And he slowly realised as everyone dispersed, that that might make sense. He was still useful, so they were going to keep him around. And he clearly remembered that Lord Daelyn had only said they would no longer speak of this matter. Something he had already demonstrated by leaving.

  So here he was, without a copper to his name but with a place to stay as long as he remained in Perna Sil. It was a trap of course. If he left, he had nothing. He had to face people who would kill him if they found out what he was, and wolves who would try to kill him regardless. If he stayed at least he had a roof over his head. And of course he didn't have to worry about the wolves, murderous citizens trying to kill him or the Princess' vengeance. All he had really done was swap one gaol cell for another, larger one.

  “Off you go.” Careyn was still smiling like a fool and looking dangerously close to bursting into laughter. “The owner of the Idal Vera Inn has been told to expect you and they'll have a meal waiting and some work ready. Your clothes are already there. You should hurry.” And for emphasis she pinched his bottom, or rather she made his bottom pinch itself somehow, causing Briagh to jump a little.

  “Work?” That didn't sound good.

  “Of course. How else were you planning to pay for your room and board? Or did you intend to live as a rakefire?”

  “I wasn't. Just give me my belongings back and my gold and I'll go.” It was the only option he decided. He needed his gold, not a job.

  “Your gold?!” Careyn finally gave in and let out a small laugh. “You don't have any gold! Everything you had was stolen. And you even wanted to build a shrine to the Lord of Thieves in the gaol. Or had you forgotten?”

  “But I did everything that Lord Daelyn asked of me!”

  “As is the duty of every citizen.” She laughed some more.

  “But –?”

  “What?! You really thought you were just going to take the gold and run?” Careyn finally burst out into a full belly laugh, almost doubling over as she did so. “Now where would you ever get such a foolish notion from?!”

  Briagh kept himself from responding in the way he really wanted to. Partly because there was no point when she was only going to keep laughing at him. She wouldn't hear anything he said. But also because if he tried to tan her backside as she properly deserved, he would lose. Her gift was too powerful for him to face. Besides, while she might be enjoying his suffering, she wasn't the one who had decreed it.

  So now he had no coin. That meant no house as he had one day dreamed of owning. No food either unless he went out hunting. No shelter. None that was, save in Perna Sil. Which meant that after everything he'd been through, he was stuck here. At least until this crisis with the wolves had ended. Then he could return to Abylon and restart his old trade – assuming there was a realm to return to.

  Briagh groaned angrily and turned around to head for the town. Some days it seemed, all he could do was give in.

/>   But it wasn't fair! Something that was brought home to him even more forcefully by the sound of Careyn’s laughter following him out of the stockade as he trudged off to find the inn.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  The axe bit into the wood cleanly, neatly splitting the length of the log in two and sending both halves flying away. It should. Briagh had made sure to keep it sharp and well-oiled ever since he'd been given the job of cutting and chopping the wood for the inn's fires. It made the work easier, and there was a lot of wood to chop each day. Even so he was hot and tired from the effort, and had long since taken off his vest, letting the sun beat down on the bare skin of his back. He didn't like the duty. Nor the others he'd been given like sweeping the floors of the inn and washing down the tables every day. And especially not the dealing with occasional rakefires. They had to go. He understood that. Once their coin had run out they had to go. But it seemed harsh.

  Still, his duties were better than some he supposed. After all, he could have been given the task of dealing with the horses in the town stables like some of the other refugees from Abysynth. He would have preferred to shoot the horses rather than shovel their muck. Others were engaged in fixing pot holes in roads and widening bridges, working hard from dawn to dusk. He thought he might even have preferred to shovel the muck from the horses to that.

  There were a lot of refuges about. More than the thirty or so they'd brought back with them. People were crossing the border from Abylon into Wynde Par every day now, and all the towns on this side of Ellys Gorge had seen a considerable growth in their human populations. Most of the newcomers did whatever they could to earn a few coins for food and a warm dry place to sleep at night. Every day he saw a few more trickle in to Perna Sil, and wondered just where they were going to stay. Few had the coin to rent a room at the Idal Vera Inn. And yet still it was full.

  Obviously the problem with the wolves was growing, spreading out across all of Abylon. So much so that he wondered whether it was just Wynde Par that was receiving refuges. Or was it all the neighbouring realms? Just how bad was the problem? And how far would it spread?

  Of course that wasn't his concern. That was something for the leaders of the realm to fix. As a newcomer to this land his goal had to be to adjust to a life of working and start planning his life anew. His new life without gold!

  If he was honest what he hated most about his new life was having to work for a living. And the work was hard. But at least it earned him a room to sleep in at night at the back of the inn and three meals a day. That was something for a man who had no coin, and no other way to obtain it. Especially when the town guards knew he was a thief, and had visited him on the first day he'd been released from the gaol to inform him that he would be watched while he remained in Perna Sil. There would be no more stealing for him. Not in this town anyway.

  As for the coin he had brought with him, that was gone just as Careyn had said. He had made enquiries about it – not with Lord Daelyn who was far too busy to spend his time dealing with him – but with the guards who had visited him. Their response had been disbelief that he should even ask such a question – a thief asking for his stolen coin back – followed by laughter. He hadn't asked again.

  Instead he chopped wood, swept floors, cleaned tables and tidied the yard, all the while cursing his rotten luck and poor judgement in coming to this place. He missed his old life. He missed his shack, though from what he'd seen in Abysynth he doubted it still stood. He even missed the camp he'd had in this land before the rangers and the accursed Princess had come into his life. His current bed and roof might be more comfortable and the food welcome, but at least he had been free. This place was a trap. He was a morph. He needed to be free.

  “You know, hard work looks good on you!”

  Briagh started as Careyn's voice came from just behind him. She liked making him jump he'd noticed. But she also liked visiting him, and most days she called on him. He guessed he couldn't complain too much about that. She was pretty after all. And in any case her gift would make it an unwise thing to do.

  “And creeping up on people like that doesn't look good on you!”

  Briagh pretended a gruffness he didn't really feel. Then he headed over to the water barrel, grabbed a wet cloth and wiped himself down before grabbing his vest from the post and pulling it on. He didn't feel completely comfortable being half dressed in her presence. He understood relations with the ladies of the night, but she wasn't one of them, and it didn't seem proper to act as if she was. It certainly didn't seem safe.

  “You love it really!” She laughed and then wandered over to the pile of firewood he'd just chopped and sat down on it delicately. “And you get to show off all those muscles!”

  Muscles? Did he have any muscles Briagh wondered? He wouldn't have thought so. But then he supposed he was somewhat larger than most of the men in this land, being both taller and stronger Not stronger than the dwarves though, and there were a few of them who called Perna Sil home. Still, he wondered why she had even said it. And why she was smiling at him like that. It was almost as though she was teasing him. The though made him a little uncomfortable. He was a morph. He ran and hid and he never shared his life with others. Certainly he didn't share his secrets with women. Love was dangerous.

  “You came for a reason?” He changed the subject, knowing that she wouldn't be visiting him without some purpose in mind.

  “Commander Fillen and Father Argen have asked for you to visit with them after midday. They think you may have some knowledge they can use.”

  “I will of course be there.” Briagh agreed instantly even though he had no desire to meet with either of them. In fact, he would have far rather done almost anything else. But he had learned to his cost never to refuse the fae – not their soldiers and especially not their lords. But he couldn't imagine what it was that they thought he might know. Especially Father Argen.

  The priest was spending all his time with his fellow priests, the tall and distinctly awkward grandson of Barachalla, and of course Endorian as they desperately tried to fix whatever had been done to the princes. Briagh doubted they had discovered anything useful though. They had now been at it for a full three weeks and there had not been so much as a whisper of hope from them. And while they continued their work, the scouts based along the Ellys Gorge reported sightings of dire wolves on the Abylon side. The threat was coming closer as the disease spread.

  “I will inform them. But perhaps you could neaten yourself up a little before you visit? Do something about that hair at least.”

  “My hair?” What was wrong with his hair he wondered? Granted it was becoming a little longer lately, but from a woman who wore her own hair down to below her waist, that seemed like an unlikely complaint.

  “Wash it, run a brush through it, and clean up the fur on your face. You are a welcome guest in our town but still, some standards are expected. This may be a small farming village but we are not uncivilised.”

  “Fine,” Briagh sighed. Really though, it didn't seem like something he should be asked to do. “I'll do my best,” he said, all the while thinking that it was yet another injustice. They stole his coin, forced him to undertake hard labour in the town simply so he could eat and sleep under a roof, and then demanded that he look respectable as well?!

  He would have said so save that he was unexpectedly interrupted by the sound of men yelling angrily in the street.

  “What was that?” Careyn looked around, startled.

  Briagh didn't answer her as he put down the axe and hurriedly made his way to the front of the inn and the street. Whatever it was it didn't sound like normal life in the town. And when he finally reached the front yard he discovered that it wasn't normal at all.

  Soldiers were making their way down the street. Barbarian soldiers. And even if he knew nothing else, Briagh knew they weren't friendly. But nor were they attacking the fae. In fact, it looked as though they had just come from a battle.

  The hundred or so men in
their heavy armour looked more like refugees than an invading army. Their armour was scuffed and dirty. In places the leather was torn while strips of chain hung down uselessly. The heavier steel plates on many of the soldiers were scratched and dented, and some pieces were missing. Many of the soldiers were wearing bandages. Their faces showed exhaustion and defeat. And as they walked they maintained no formation. Nor did they march. They trudged as if their feet were made of lead. Their heads were lowered to stare at the ground instead of to the horizon.

  But mostly what spoke of their defeat was that they were being escorted through the town by rangers. At least a hundred rode down the street behind them, their weapons at the ready as they made sure none of the soldiers could escape to either side. Many more rangers were coming up the rear. Yet if the barbarians had been defeated in battle by the rangers, why were they still armed?

  “Barbarians?” Careyn asked.

  “More than that. Their armour; it has the fighting bears on it. These are the soldiers of the barbarian Prince, Vel Moran.” Briagh abruptly remembered that the barbarian Prince had been battling the wolves in Abysynth. Of course, he knew something had gone very wrong there. After all, the city had been levelled. But even if the barbarian Prince's forces had fallen, why were they here in Perna Sil? Shouldn't they have retreated to their own lands?