by B N Miles
He tamped down the ash and put out the flame then placed the pipe back on the table. Sirrin slumped forward, resting his head on the tabletop. Cam turned to the tent flap and heard voices just outside.
“— goes in right now,” Naff said.
“I don’t much care what he’s doing in there,” a familiar voice said, feminine but strong. “We need to go over watch shifts and discuss when we’re moving again. He needs to—”
Cam stepped out of the tent to find Captain Brice standing in front of the guards. Naff gave her a dirty look, but she ignored the guard and stared at Cam.
He stared right back. She wasn’t wearing her armor and he almost felt like he’d caught her naked. His eyes drifted from her thick, dark raven hair, down to her soft pink lips, down further to her surprisingly gentle body and wide hips. She wore a dark blue tunic, buttoned tight to her throat, black trousers, and worn brown boots. A sword was belted at her hip.
“Captain,” Cam said.
She made a face then glared at Naff. “So you can let him in there?” she asked.
“Sirrin allowed it,” the guard said.
“Of course he did.” She looked back at Cam. “Shared his pipe, I bet.”
“Not really my thing,” Cam said. “He’s asleep, if you’re still interested in talking to him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course he is. That lazy bastard. The second we stop moving, that pipe comes out.”
Cam stepped past the guards and stood with Brice. She looked up at him and crossed her arms. She was tall for a woman, taller than his girlfriends, but he was still a few inches taller. Her arms were lean, and her legs were long and strong, but she didn’t look like the monstrous, muscle-bound she-beast he half expected her to be.
“I’d be happy to discuss watch shifts and anything else,” he said.
“I’m not sure when you became a part of the officer corps,” she said. “But I can handle it myself.”
Cam made a gesture, his palms turned up. “Of course. Just trying to help.”
She gave him a sour look and turned away, her dark hair streaming out behind her. He watched her walk off and a little smile came across his face.
Maybe Miuri was right. His bed back at the Mansion was enormous, after all. Captain Brice seemed like she hated him, but Cam suspected that was just the way she was with everyone.
He took a deep breath of fresh air, glad to be out of that tent, and turned to walk back to his girls. He’d get some rest before they began their march again in a few hours.
34
Cam managed a few restless hours of sleep nestled between Felin’s raspy, animalistic snores and Key’s tight body. He pulled a blanket over his face to block out the morning light and willed himself into unconsciousness.
Only to be woken up again with a start what felt like minutes later. Miuri knelt next to him, her face hard. “Wolves,” she said.
Cam crawled from the tent then pushed himself to his feet. Key and Felin stirred as he grabbed his sword and belted it on. He’d slept in his armor again, and he was starting to chafe at the joints where it rubbed against his skin. He’d have to get the set altered to fit him better, or he’d have to find a set that fit right.
“Leave them,” Miuri said. “Let them sleep if they can. Come on, the others need help.”
Cam nodded and followed Miuri without a word. He heard shouts at the far end of the camp, where the stream met their makeshift fort. Cam saw the armored infantry lining up just behind the stakes, their bronze plates gleaming in the sun. Archers lined up behind them, and officers walked up and down their ranks, barking orders.
“What’s going on?” Cam asked.
“Wolves coming,” Miuri said. “A lot of them.”
“How many?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Hundreds, maybe thousands. I was out scouting and saw them, only made it back just in time to warn the sentries.”
Cam nodded, his face tight. “They’ll hit hard,” he said.
Miuri said nothing, and together they hurried toward the battle lines. Cam moved among the men, slipping between their ranks, until he spotted Captain Brice walking up and down the forward most ranks, shouting orders, getting men into positions. They set up just inside the wooden stakes, within striking distance of any wolf that slammed against the barrier.
As Cam approached, Captain Brice caught his eye. “Shaman,” she said. “No need for you here. You’ll just be lunch without some real armor.”
A few of her men laughed and she grinned viciously at him.
Cam inclined his head. “Point me where you want me, then.”
“The back will do just fine,” she said, turning to face the forest. “Let us handle this.” She drew her sword in one sweeping motion and her men cheered, banging spears and swords against shields.
Cam gave Miuri a look, who just rolled her eyes. They slipped back through the ranks and joined the archers toward the back. Cam found a nearby cart laden with supplies under a thick oilcloth and climbed on top. He gave Miuri a hand and pulled her up, and together they surveyed the field.
Wolves were lined up a hundred yards away. They were outside of bowshot, and they seemed to be moving and pulsing as more and more of them joined. The terrain between them and the armored frontline was uneven and rocky, but it wouldn’t slow them down much. There were only a few bushes and small scrubby trees between them, which meant the archers would be able to do real damage before they arrived.
But there were a lot of them. Hundreds was an understatement. There had to be at least three, four thousand out there. Miuri held onto Cam’s arm.
“We should wake the whole camp,” she said.
Cam shook his head. The full armored division was down there, plus at least a hundred archers, and more infantry were streaming in from the camp.
“Just wait,” he said. “They can handle this.”
Miuri clenched her jaw but didn’t speak.
Captain Brice shouted encouragement and the men made more noise. In the distance, the wolves began to advance, slow at first, just an easy trot. But as they got within bow range, they began to jog, then to sprint.
The archers drew and loosed, following their officers’ commands. The arrows flew in heavy, dark thickets and dropped down to slice through the vulnerable wolves. Bodies slammed against the ground and more wolves tripped over their dead comrades. Hundreds of them fell under that first barrage, and the archers drew and loosed a second.
But the wolves closed fast. Two arrow barrages killed off a good number of wolves and slowed their charge, but it barely made a dent in their overall numbers.
The wolves slammed up against the wooden stakes. Animals screamed and barked and snapped their jaws in a manic frenzy. The armored division hacked and stabbed from behind the stakes, pushing the bodies off where they could. Cam lost sight of Brice in the fighting, and he reached out to touch Miuri.
“Stay here,” he said.
“You can’t go out there,” she said.
He gave her a look. “They’re going to need fire,” he said and hopped off the cart.
He jogged forward and was relieved when Miuri didn’t follow. For once in their relationship, she actually listened.
The frontlines were screaming and fighting with horrible efficiency. He didn’t see a single man drop as the wolves struggled between the stakes. Their jaws and claws weren’t effective against the armor, but they kept coming anyway, their bodies piling up like stacked wood. The stakes began to lisp and bend, and the front line had to retreat as the sheer weight of the wolf corpses knocked some of the stakes forward.
Cam heard more screams and shouts as the wolves hit the armored line again, rushing through the gap in the stakes. It was a chaotic mixture of shouting, groaning, cursing, and the line barely held. It bulged in the middle, and he heard more screams, gibbering wolf howls, jaw snaps, bodies tear. The copper smell of blood and the rotted scent of wolf breath filled the air as Cam fought to reach the front.
He saw several armored warriors together in a small tight pack hold the center. The wings began to bend around them, forming a half moon. Cam realized with horror that it was Captain Brice in the very middle, the tip of the half-moon shape, and she was stumbling backwards as wolves came at her from all sides. She’d be enveloped in a moment, and even with all that armor she’d be ripped to shreds.
Cam let out a growl as he slid his sword from its sheath and shoved his way ahead. He was one rank away from the front, and he could hear the Captain’s shouted orders. She was calling for the men to hold, to hold, to push forward, but the weight and the numbers of the wolves were forcing them back.
This wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let more death follow him like a plague. He shoved his way to the front and felt his power slip through him. He dropped down deep into that well of dark calm and tasted the energy that crackled just out of reach. He drew it into himself, touched the priori and tamed it, drew it like water and let it flow into his veins.
He roared with the pleasure of it as he reached Captain Brice. He pushed his way up next to her and her eyes went wide in surprise.
“Cam!” she yelled. “What are you doing! You’re not—”
He thrust his sword between the gap in their shields and flames rolled down his arms and his blade, bursting forward and slicing through the wolves.
Captain Brice screamed something and fell back. Cam barely heard her, barely heard anything. He called the flame again, as much flame as he could manage, as much fire as he’d used to burn down the forest and threw it all into the screaming, shouting, gibbering wolves that bore down on him. The fire rose and fell in writhing, snake-like whips of raw heat, roiling blue and orange, sending thick clouds of smoke in the air as fur and flesh and bone turned to ash.
He slashed his sword, swinging it in wide arcs that scythed through flesh. Soon, the ground beneath his feet was boiling, the steam and smoke rising up into the air all around him. He let a vicious growl rip from his throat as he swung his sword one more time and realized there were no more wolves around him.
He’d burned a gap in their lines. Through the smoke, he could see wolves gathering. He turned and dropped the heat, let it dissipate back down along his skin. Captain Brice was twenty yards away, her eyes wide, her men staring with open mouths.
“Fill the gap,” Cam shouted. “Fill the gap!”
For a moment, he didn’t think they’d move. For just a moment he stood there in no-man’s land, the fires all around him fading into nothing, and he thought he’d be left for the wolves.
But then Captain Brice shouted, raised her sword in the air, and charged forward. The lines all around her moved and they pressed themselves ahead, rushing to fill the space Cam had burned all around him. The heavily armored infantry shoved their way past him and slammed themselves into the wolves.
Cam took deep, gasping breath, and felt the Need begin to seep into his mind. To his right, he saw more infantry forcing their way out from between the stakes. They were light infantry carrying small javelins and wearing leather armor. They formed up, threw their javelins into the flank of the wolf horde, then charged. They slammed against the wolves and began to hack and fight as the armored division attacked with savage coordinated bursts of slicing sword and spear.
He felt hands on his shoulders, and he turned. Miuri stood there, worry in her face. She touched his hand and pulled at it.
“Cam,” she said.
“What?” His eyes were wide, his heart was racing. He realized the Need bore down on him, squeezing his throat shut, making him purr with rage and desire.
“You need to come with me,” she said.
“But the army—”
“Is winning,” she finished for him. “Dagan and Theus are leading a flanking attack. You distracted the wolves just long enough for them to set it up.”
“I can’t just walk away.” He turned back toward the armored division and Captain Brice as they fought to shove the wolves back. They gained ground and began to leave the burned grass behind.
“Cam.” Miuri tugged him again and he turned. “If you go out there again, you’re going to hurt someone.”
His eyes went wide and he almost pulled away. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone, that was never his plan. He wanted to save the army—he didn’t want anyone to get caught in the crossfire. If they would only unleash him, he could immolate every single one of those animals out there, burn them all to ash.
But Miuri wouldn’t release his hand. She stared into his eyes and pressed herself closer.
“Cam,” she said again. “Listen to my voice. If you go out there, you’ll lose control. You can’t do that again.”
He blinked rapidly and looked down into Miuri’s eyes. She stared at him, her expression a mask of pain and worry. He realized with a start that he was squeezing her hand as hard as he could, and he abruptly relaxed. She let out a sharp breath but didn’t let him go.
“Okay,” he said, and could barely hear his own voice over the din of the fighting and the screams of the Need in his own head. “Okay, you’re right, I can’t… I won’t lose control.”
“Come with me,” she said and tugged at him. “Come on, Cam.”
He hesitated, looking back at the army, but let her pull him away.
She was right. If he went out there now, he’d only burn his own people again, and he couldn’t risk it. He was too deep in the Need. He could feel it pounding at his skull, smashing at his brain, begging him to suck in more power, more power, so much power he could never hope to control it all.
He let out a growl but followed Miuri back to their tent, where the girls took care of him.
35
The battle was over not long after Cam finished with the girls. He climbed out from the tent and belted on his sword again, Felin, Key, and Miuri close on his heels.
“Are you sure you should go back out there?” Key asked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Cam said. “I promise.” He strode through camp and found most of the tents empty, but he could smell the smoke still on the air mixed with the copper tinge of blood and the early rot of decaying bodies.
Men streamed in the opposite direction. Most of them were sweating, some covered in blood and gore. They leaned on each other, the wounded limping along, the broken dragged on sledges. He heard yells, some screams, some moans of pain. But for the most part, the men were whole and uninjured.
He found the battlefield strewn with bodies. The ground where he’d unleashed his power was blackened, though it no longer steamed and sizzled. Men picked through the wreckage of the field, pushed over piles of wolf corpses, dragged fallen comrades, killed the wolves that still lived but were too wounded to run.
The armored division was back in camp already, but he spotted three figures still in full plate, and he angled toward them. He recognized the plume on top of Captain Brice’s helmet, and he wanted to hear what happened after he’d left the field.
“Wait for me back here,” Cam said to the girls. “See if anyone needs help. Key, go find Dagan and Theus, find out what happened to our men.”
She nodded and turned. She strode off, but Felin lingered with Miuri. Cam hesitated when he saw the look on Felin’s face. He stepped over to the wolf girl and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Maybe you should go back,” he said.
Her face twisted into a mask of pain as she stared at all the wolf corpses that littered the field.
“So many dead,” she said. “Do you know most of them had families?”
Cam shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”
“Werewolves make little family packs at a young age,” she said. “We just, we like having packs. I bet a lot of those dead have children, have wives or husbands. And now they’re gone.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am, Felin. I wish I could stop this.”
She shook her head, dark hair flying. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s Lycanica. She’s th
e reason they’re throwing themselves into this. They’re acting like animals, Cam, and we’re not like that. This is all just so… wrong.”
Cam felt a pang of pain and pulled her close. He hugged her tight and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sure what he could do for her.
Miuri reached out and steered Felin away. He gave the Elf a look and she frowned at him, shaking her head once. He watched them go, standing in the blackened grass, before he turned and began to pick his way through the field.
As he passed over the bodies, he thought about what Felin said. They were people, husbands and wives and sons and daughters. Their bodies were wolf, and they acted like rabid animals, but he knew they were people. He had Felin, he kissed her and loved her, and he knew that not all Werewolves were beasts.
But it was Lycanica, their goddess, driving them mad with blood lust and rage.
He didn’t understand what could drive their goddess to demand so much from them. He couldn’t picture anything in this world worth driving her followers so hard, forcing death and killing on them, forcing them to wash over the world like a wave of blood.
It didn’t matter. In the end, they were coming, and they were his enemies. He could love Felin and still hate those that wanted to do him harm. She’d have to come to grips with their situation sooner or later, and he only hoped it didn’t drive her mad in the meantime.
As he approached the three armored figures, one half-turned toward him, a young man with high cheekbones and a short up-turned nose. He touched Brice on the shoulder and she turned, her eyes narrowing. Cam stopped a few feet away, his left hand on the hilt of his sword to steady it.
“Shaman,” Captain Brice said. Her two lieutenants stood back as she approached him.
“Captain.” Cam glanced around the field. The dirt beneath them was soaked with wolf blood, their corpses were piled high all around them. There must have been a few hundred, maybe even a thousand of them dead.
“You left the battle again.” She stopped and crossed her arms.