With a growl, the enemies slowly advanced. They did not bark, but snarled as they walked, spreading out in a line, trying to flank them. Tempus listened for the commands, the whistles that told him what to do, but none came. Soon, the two comrades were surrounded; the wolfhound facing one way, while Tempus guarded the other.
The pack attacked in a rush, darting in, one at a time to nip at the defender's flanks. The strikes were quick, and Tempus found no time to do anything other than react. The enemy repeated this several times, and Tempus came to the realization that the pack was testing their defence. The great mastiff had fought many times and had learned his lessons well. He timed their movements and waited. The largest of the creatures made his run, and then Tempus shifted, correctly predicting the next one's advance. He lunged to his right, catching his opponent off guard and sank his teeth into its neck. He maintained his grip while the smaller beast thrashed and suddenly another was on his back. He felt sharp teeth bury themselves deeply, but held on, determined to wreak as much damage as possible.
He heard a growl, and then the wolfhound pounced, pulling the creature from Tempus’ back. Tempus let go of his target as the remaining two surged forward. There was a whirlwind of fur and gnashing teeth. He could briefly see his first target slinking away, blood pouring from its wound, but soon more teeth sank into him as something bit into his leg. He yelped in pain, desperately turning to meet his new attacker, but the creature let go, retreating with blood dripping from its mouth.
A yelp erupted beside him, and he turned to see the wolfhound on the ground, two dogs upon him. Tempus ignored the pain in his leg, and propelled himself forward, barrelling into one, knocking him from his partner's body, his teeth digging deep. He clenched his jaws trying to find the bone, but the tuft of fur on his opponent was thick, and he struggled while more teeth nipped at his legs, but he knew he must hold on until he heard the familiar snap. On and on came the enemy and soon, Tempus was covered in his own blood. His thick skin saved him, for their teeth, though sharp, could not fully penetrate his hide. Covered in surface wounds, he bit down even harder and finally felt the neck snap, his opponent going limp. He pulled his muzzle away from the carcass to turn on those that remained. The wolfhound had a death grip on another’s leg, the creature bleeding out while two others circled, occasionally rushing forward to bite him.
Tempus found the energy to move, willing himself to continue the fight. The other creatures were distracted trying to take down the wolfhound, and so he waited. Soon, the pack went in again, and as they began to withdraw, he struck, using his paws to push one down, then using his bulk to pin it to the ground. His teeth found purchase and dug into the creature's throat; its thrashing lasting only a moment before it too, went still.
The wolfhound, now finished with its first victim, turned and the last animal must have known it was doomed. The two dogs circled their prey before it made one final, hopeless charge. It was all over in an instant as the two great pit fighters finished off their victim. The crowd erupted in applause, and the handlers came to take them away after their triumph.
Dozens of times over the coming months they worked together, though they still fought independently from time to time. The crowds seemed to love their partnership, but it became difficult to find suitable opponents. They usually battled other dogs, but one match they also defeated a bear and then a wild cat of some type. Each time they worked as a team they learned each other's tactics better and began to count on each other's cooperation.
* * *
It was a night like many others; the crowds could clearly be heard from the kennels. He listened as the early fights were carried out. Smaller dogs would start, chasing rats around, with coins changing hands at the conclusion. Then came the slightly larger dogs, snarling and growling. The sounds were all too familiar to Tempus; they had become his way of life. He knew he would fight last, the champion of the pits to finish off the evening. What would they have him fight tonight, he wondered?
Before long, it was his time, and he strode confidently into the ring, alone. So, it was to be a solo fight this evening! He waited patiently for the opposite gate to open, wondering what his adversary might be. The gates soon swung out to reveal his opponent, the great wolfhound. Tempus was confused, who were they to fight and why hadn’t they come out the same door?
They both trotted to the centre of the ring, taking up a position back to back, each staring at an entrance. The crowd booed, and Tempus didn’t understand; where were their opponents. He heard the command ‘attack’ but could see no target. The noise of the crowd intensified, and soon men came from the kennels with spears in their hands. Tempus was used to these tools, for their points were sharp. Were they to fight men this evening?
The handlers gathered around, yelling at Tempus and the wolfhound. They poked and prodded, repeated the ‘attack’ commands, but neither of them took action. There was more yelling, and soon the kerchiefed man showed up. Leashes were attached, and both animals were escorted from the ring as people threw all manner of garbage into the arena. Tempus had never seen its like before. What were they doing?
Both were taken back to the kennels, but this time they were put into cages, facing one another. Men stood to either side, spears ready, with points facing each animal.
The kerchiefed man looked at Tempus, then at the wolfhound, yelling so much that spittle erupted from his mouth. He chopped his right hand down onto his left and then suddenly there was a yelp as two spears drove into the wolfhound's flanks. Tempus looked on in horror as his friend, impaled, let out a dying whimper. Tempus readied himself; so this was it, he thought. If I am to die tonight, I shall take as many with me as I can.
He snarled and moved back and forth as best he could in the cage. The spears stood ready but didn’t move. How dare they taunt him like this, he thought, am I not the champion? Let them kill me now for I shall never fight for them again. He was removed from the cage and taken back to his kennel, struggling the whole way. The kerchiefed man came to visit him but merely shook his head.
Days went by, and he grew hungry and thirsty, but no food was forthcoming. When they finally came to take him to practice, he laid down and refused to move. Tempus was determined to avenge the death of his only friend by refusing to ever fight again.
Ready to die, he lay quietly in his cell, waiting for the inevitable, but once again fate intervened. He lay on his side, his eyes closed, hunger gripping his belly when he heard voices. He glanced at the door to his cell to see a well-dressed man. He sported a bushy grey beard and knelt at the kennel's gate. Tempus met his gaze, and the man held out something, reaching through the bars.
Tempus, his inquisitive nature taking over, rose unsteadily to his feet, moving toward the well-dressed man. He stopped short, smelling the air; there was food here. He stepped forward, taking the proffered treat. It was a small wafer, but immensely filling. Was it magic? He felt a hand upon his forehead. He wanted to attack, to rend his victim for all the injustices he had faced, but feeling some tenderness in the touch, he just remained still, too weak to care anymore.
The well-dressed man withdrew his hand, then stood and turned to face the kerchiefed man. Tempus heard coins changing hands and knew his life was to change once again.
That evening he was fed a proper meal, and his handlers spared him the usual taunts. The next morning they brought a cage on wheels, and led him into it, chaining his collar to the base. Soon, the wagon was trundling out of his home, and he squinted as the sunlight struck him directly for the first time in years.
As they rolled through the town he marvelled at the sights. He stared at the people walking on the streets, and one little girl stopped to watch as he rolled by. He thought, at first, it was his mistress, but her hair was the wrong colour. He slumped back down, looking back on his life. Why had he been born, he wondered, why must he be so tormented. Was the maker mad at him?
He smelled water, and the wagon halted. Soon, they pulled him from his cage, leadin
g him up a long ramp to a large wooden boat. He stood on its deck, and he was reminded of the place he was born, but here the water was calm and didn’t smell of salt. They took him below, and he was chained once more.
Sometime later the gentle rocking of the boat told him it was in motion. He knew not where it was going, only that the sound of coins had once again changed his destiny.
* * *
“He arrived in Kingsford,” explained Albreda. “I can see it before me as clear as day. I suspect his story is nearing its close, though there is still much to tell.”
* * *
In this new city, there was a grand building, made of stone, and Tempus was taken there as soon as he left the boat. The well-dressed man led him, with handlers behind holding the Tempus’ leash. The air here seemed fresher, for there was a breeze, though perhaps it just seemed sweeter after the close confines of the lower deck. They halted, outside of an immense structure and brought chains to secure him. So, he thought, they want whoever’s inside to be kept safe from me. They led him in, and he meekly followed, determined to see this through to the end.
The great room they were taken into reminded Tempus of the warehouse, but this was made of stone and much more grandiose. Instead of barrels and crates, he saw strange stone figures and suits of metal on stands. Men with spears stood on either side of the room as he was led toward a man robed in red, seated in a large chair that rose above him, glittering with gold.
He heard the word ‘Majesty’, and everyone in the group bowed. The man in the seat rose and walked forward. Tempus felt the chains grow tighter but watched patiently. The man was pale of skin but had dark, black hair with a neatly trimmed beard. Tempus waited as the stranger in the red-robe walked around him, nodding to the well-dressed man. Returning to his seat, he spoke, and someone scuttled forth to drop coins into the well-dressed man's hands. Once again, fate had intervened.
* * *
Life serving the man in the seat turned out to be little different from his past. He was fed more and kept in nicer kennels, but still, he fought other dogs. Each time the man in the seat would watch over him, collecting coins every match.
The fights grew less frequent, but he was still undefeated, and he wondered where the endless stream of opponents came from. He seldom killed his adversaries these days, merely maimed them and he was surprised to see the same opponent after a severe mauling. He mulled over this for some time, but eventually gave up; there were some things he just could not explain.
The weather turned cooler, and he was packed into a wagon for travel. For many days he journeyed until they entered a great walled city.
* * *
“Tempus had arrived in Wincaster,” added Albreda, “for I know the city well. I can see it clearly in his mind for this is almost the end of his story. He would still fight in the capital, but there were few dogs large enough to provide a challenge for him. He had likely made the king a tidy sum, for he was impossible to defeat.”
* * *
Tempus rose from his bed, his limbs aching. Years in the pits had left him scarred and his body devastated. His joints pained him, and his teeth were chipped. His constant fighting over the years had taken its toll.
They came for him, like any other night, securing the chain to his collar. Off they marched him, but instead of entering the ring, they led him from the building to a wagon. Here he was caged, and the horses trotted off, lumbering up the street. Tempus was confused, was there some new development? Where was the sound of coins?
The wagon stopped, and he was removed from his cage. Led by a loose leash, he trotted on, feeling every step shake his bones. Into a magnificent structure he marched, his handlers besides him. He looked left and right, wondering where he would fight next.
There was a great hall, similar to where he first met the seated man, and into this he was led. There, once again, his benefactor looked down on him, a smile upon his lips. The man rose, and Tempus felt the chains tightening as his handlers took precautions. Two men in metal stepped up with spear tips pointed at him. He knew what was coming, for this would be the end.
The man leaned forward, staring Tempus directly in the face. Their eyes met, and Tempus let out a slight whimper. He wanted to go out in a fight, but he was broken and tired. Please, he thought, put an end to my misery. The man placed his hand upon Tempus’ head, feeling his scarred fur. He stepped back, calling someone to his side. A smaller, bald man came forward with something, and Tempus saw a new collar. In place of the spikes, this one had a single brass plate with something on it. Was it a magic ward to protect him?
The guards raised their spears as the bald man stepped forward timidly, fighting to remove the old collar. Soon, the new replaced the old, and the chains were removed. Tempus looked about, surprised and astounded. The seated man held out his hand, and someone put a leash in it. He strode forward, confidently and tied it to the collar. The man led, and Tempus followed, through the great building to a smaller room. At this new location, there was strange furniture including a large mat. Onto this he was led, the leash dropped to the floor. The man moved behind a large wooden structure and sat down, and then began doing something with a feather.
People came and went throughout the day, and Tempus watched. The visitors all gave him a wide birth, and the man in the seat seemed happy to see their discomfort at the sight of the massive beast.
In the evening a woman came with food, and he greedily devoured it. The man gave an order, and a soldier in armour came to take Tempus outside. There was an immense area with cut grass and carefully manicured trees. Tempus smelt the outside world in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was young. This was freedom!
Over the next few weeks, he grew comfortable in his new life. The man in the seat would often take meetings, and Tempus was always there, sitting in his corner. He was well fed and exercised and had little to do except sleep. Was this his reward for a life of misery?
The black haired woman changed everything. She came to visit the seated man. He knew her well, greeted her by standing and kissing her on the cheek, but she took one look at Tempus, and he could tell she was afraid. Something in her smell told Tempus she was evil and he immediately disliked her. Over the next few days, the seated man spent less time in this room. The black-haired woman turned up with two men, and they stared at Tempus for some time. She held a slim dagger in her hand while the two men looked on, but something must have stayed her. Tempus growled and rose to his feet while her two companions drew swords, but she stilled them with a wave of her hand, and they left.
Sometime later the seated man came for him, leading him out of the room. He passed the leash to an armoured man and gave him orders, petting Tempus on the head as he did so. Led by his leash, he hopped into a wagon, though this time there was no cage.
He watched the countryside roll by, the scent of fresh air tickling his nose. He tried to stay awake to take in all the new sights and sounds, but his worn out body gave in, and he fell asleep. At night he rested while his escort lit a fire. The next morning they were up and travelling again. It continued like this for a few days until the wagon rolled into a little village and crossed over a small wooden bridge. Soon, they were approaching an estate lined with trees where a large white building was waiting for them.
* * *
“He arrived at Uxley,” said Anna, recognizing the description.
“Yes,” agreed Albreda, “his tale is almost done.”
“But we know the rest,” said Anna, “don’t we?”
“Let her finish the tale, Anna,” piped in Gerald. “I’d like to know how Tempus sees it.”
“Very well,” agreed Anna. “Please continue, Albreda.”
* * *
His new home was enormous, and Tempus found endless fascination sniffing out all the nooks and crannies. The people here were fearful of him, but they gave him food and water and left him to his own devices. The servants kept visiting the upper floor and Tempus, intrigued, decided to investigate.
He followed them one day to discover them entering a room. He sat at the end of the hallway, listening, only to hear the sounds of a young girl coming from within. He tried to get closer but was shooed away by servants with brooms.
He wondered if it was his old mistress from so long ago, but came to the conclusion it couldn’t be, for too much time had passed. Who was this little girl? He took to wandering the hallway and soon decided this would be where he would sleep. He had failed to protect his mistress all those years ago, and his punishment was to be sent into a life of torment; he would never let it happen again!
Night after night he slept in the hall, keeping it safe, ever alert. The cold weather came and then the spring, and still, he held his vigil.
The weather warmed, and the windows were opened to allow a fresh breeze. It was the middle of the night, and Tempus was awoken by a strange smell - intruders! He was instantly awake and stood, sniffing the air. He detected distant footsteps treading softly; were the servants awake? He crouched in the darkness, his eyes glued to the little girl's door.
Movement down the hall caught his attention; something was approaching in the darkness. The girl's door began to open, and he realized with a shock that the intruders were dressed all in black. As the door swung open, Tempus attacked, launching himself at the closest target. His victim was caught completely unawares as the mastiff’s powerful jaws snapped shut on the man's thigh. A terrifying scream erupted from his lips, and he fell to the floor, blood spurting everywhere as Tempus released his grip.
Other men went through the door, but one turned to face him, metal glinting in his hand. Tempus moved without thinking, clamping down on the forearm before the blade could swing. There was a snap of bone and Tempus released, thundering into the room to save his new mistress.
Mercerian Tales Page 17