by James Somers
A static charge clung to Percival as he passed through the portal. Tiny pops of electricity danced across his clothing and through his hair as his feet stepped out onto soft green grass in a waning twilight. His company followed him through the portal one at a time until they were all assembled on a grassy plain just as the sun passed below unknown mountains in the distance. The portal’s marble green energy snapped into nothingness behind them.
“Well, here we are I guess,” Percival said. He surveyed the area, finding a thickly planted forest rising up before them nearly a mile away. “Is that…?”
“The home of the Lycans,” Sir Bane said. “From here on things will get progressively more dangerous.”
“Like that fight in the arena wasn’t?” Violet interjected.
“I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be, Violet,” Percival said. “Tougher as we get closer to Queen Lilith.”
“She will be the most deadly of all,” Widow Black said with a delighted grin.
Violet leered at the woman. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
Widow Black continued to smile. Then she nudged closer to Percival, whispering in his ear, keeping her unnaturally bright eyes fixed upon Violet. “I’m not worried, Percival. As powerful as you are, we’ll have no problem killing her and taking her crown.”
Percival couldn’t help but notice the woman’s scent as she sidled up to him. The aroma of apples and cinnamon rolled off her, only to change a moment later to vanilla then to gingerbread. Percival suddenly felt warmer, but he wasn’t sure if it was Widow Black or the daggers flying from Violet’s eyes toward him. He tried not to breathe through his nose. Any distractions might get them all killed. Certain danger still loomed ahead.
Percival could tell Violet was gritting her teeth. Part of him hated this feminine rivalry taking place. Another part of him couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that Violet seemed had been seething with jealousy ever since Widow Black joined their group. Percival stepped away from the woman toward Violet. “I think we should pray before we go in there, don’t you?” he asked.
Violet relaxed then smiled, nodding.
Percival turned to the others. “Before we go another step, I’m going to ask the Lord for help.”
Master Baanna smiled brightly in his simian way. The others appeared to be confused. Sir Bane even voiced as much. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Percival looked at Violet. He could read it in her eyes—don’t tell them. They might then guess at their humanity which Marlon and the Lonelys had stressed not to make known. “Just wait for a moment,” he said, then he and Violet bowed their heads together, praying quietly.
When they had finished, Percival opened his eyes to find Violet still smiling at him. “I’m sure things will go well if this is the Lord’s will,” she said. “I feel better now.”
“Me too.” Percival turned to the others. “Sir Bane, what can we expect from the Lycans?”
“Devils, the lot of them,” he began. “They may appear either as men or beasts—very wolf-like—though walking on their hind legs. They are incredibly strong and fast and they usually roam in packs. Beyond that, they die the same as men, but silver is especially effective in dispatching their kind.” He drew his gleaming silver broadsword to punctuate his statement.
Master Baanna nodded vigorously, like a bobble head, grinning the whole time. Percival smiled at the ape then nodded, surveying all of his companions. “Let’s go.”
THE LYCAN WOOD
The Lycan Wood had seemed to drift farther away from them as they journeyed toward its boundary, making a relatively short walk take hours. It had seemed no further than a mile when they first arrived. There was some sort of magic at work, something that muddled their perceptions.
Gradually, as fatigue settled upon their group, the Wood came to embrace them. The massive girth of the trees was unlike anything Percival had ever seen. Only the Redwood Forests of his world could hold a candle to them. If their entire troop had linked arms, they still could not have encircled the half of one of them.
Mist crawled along the ground like a herd of gray snakes, weaving through the short grass and ferns which owned almost every inch of earth the trees did not inhabit. Above them, multiple layers of mist hung in the sky, never descending or ascending, confined to one plane only. “There’s plenty of places for them to hide, isn’t there?” Percival asked. Everyone knew whom he was referring to. Still, they had not heard so much as a growl, since entering the Wood.
“If they decide to attack—and they will—the Lycan’s won’t need any place to hide,” Sir Bane said. “We will.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of them,” Violet said, following the knight over a particularly large root breaking through the earth like a breaching whale.
“Afraid?” Sir Bane asked. “No, I’m not afraid. Only cautious. Fear has its uses, young lady. It keeps you from doing stupid things that can get you killed.”
Percival was only partially paying attention to their conversation. He was busy trying to take in their surroundings, analyzing the Wood, hoping something of use might present itself. They expected an attack. The only question was what to do once it happened? “I’m surprised it hasn’t gotten dark yet,” Percival remarked.
Sir Bane followed closely. “It never gets completely dark here,” he said.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Violet asked.
“Actually, it only causes confusion,” Sir Bane said. “The Wood can play tricks on the eyes.”
“What kind of tricks?” Percival asked.
“Shadows. Shapes. Sometimes, people hallucinate, seeing monsters that aren’t really there,” Sir Bane said. “I’ve even heard of parties passing through this wood only to slaughter one another. They saw apparitions, and attacked, but when the blows had been delivered, their fellow companions had been standing before them instead.”
Percival considered this information. Everything about this world was set against them. Even a forest became a monster in Horrif-I. “How long before you think we’ll see some of them?” Percival asked.
“They’ve surely been watching us since before we entered the Wood,” he said. Percival noticed Sir Bane and all of his knights carried their swords unsheathed in their hands. He looked back at Violet. They both paused while she did the same. “Better to be prepared,” Percival said to her. She didn’t smile as they fell back into the line. Percival wasn’t smiling either. His eyes darted to every perceptible movement among the trees, both high and low.
Percival tried to come up with ideas for using his imagination here. He needed some way to fight back against the Lycans beyond mere sword play, which he wasn’t particularly skilled at in the first place. If these creatures were as fast as Sir Bane suggested, then many techniques he might employ would be too slow. “I’ve not had enough time to practice,” Percival whispered to himself.
Violet picked up on his concern. She tugged on his shoulder as they rounded another large tree trunk, following Sir Bane. “What’s wrong…I mean besides the obvious?”
“I’m not prepared for this, Violet,” he said. He felt suddenly on the verge of panic, surveying their company following behind. “These people are depending on me to get us through. But I’ve not used these new abilities enough to really know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m about to get everyone killed.”
Violet listened. She had heard this sort of thing before from Percival. As lifelong best friends, they had shared secrets and secret misgivings before. Percival had never been the most confident person in the world. Not many people gave him a reason to be.
“Look, I saw someone pretty on-top-of-his-game back in that arena,” she said. “You saved my life, Percival.” Violet gestured back to the others following them. “They all saw it too. They believed in you enough to volunteer to come with us.” She smiled. “You’ve always told me that God will give you what you need in order to accomplish his will. Well, this is where the Lord has le
d you. Don’t you believe he’ll make the way, now?”
Percival smiled at her, nodding his head. “You’re right…I just wasn’t thinking clearly. Thanks.”
“Good,” Violet said. “Now, get back up there in front where you belong. I’ll be right behind you.”
Percival increased his pace with Violet following, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword tightly. In a moment, he had caught up with Sir Bane. “Do you really think they’re already watching us?” he asked the knight.
Bane searched what was visible of the treetops and forest around them, then nodded. “I do.”
“Then why haven’t they attacked yet?” Violet asked.
“Maybe they want to assess our strengths before attacking,” Sir Bane said. “It’s hard to say. I do know they are intelligent enough to organize their assaults.”
Percival considered this information. “Perhaps we should take the fight to them,” he suggested.
“What?” Sir Bane was clearly startled by such a suggestion. “No one has ever done something so foolish. It’s madness, insanity, suicide!”
“Exactly,” Percival conceded. “They won’t be expecting it. If these things crave fear, we’ll give them just the opposite of what they’re hoping for.”
Sir Bane regarded the young man before him for a moment, considering what Percival was saying. “You know, in a maniacal sort of way, it actually makes sense.” He stopped. “Call me crazy, young Master, but I think I like it.” The rest of their company gathered around to see what plan they had come up with.
Percival surveyed the rest of the group. “We need to go into intimidation mode, people…really show the Lycans what we’re made of. If we just walk through their territory all passive, they’ll take us down for sure. So, let’s show them what they’re up against before they decide to attack.”
Percival took the lead from Sir Bane. As he walked on through the forest, he conjured gouts of flame, erupting ahead of him, as though he were breathing fire like a dragon. Percival shot them out into the spaces between the great trees hoping to frighten the Lycan away. But he still never saw any of them, so it was difficult to know if his display of power was having any effect.
Behind him, Violet walked nearby with her sword raised high, as if she expected werewolves to erupt from the trees at any moment. Sir Bane and his knights did likewise, having no particular power with which to make a show like Percival. Widow Black, however, was blasting the tree trunks around them with the same crimson lightning Percival had seen her redirect from Lord Pipsqueak.
About fifteen minutes after they had started showing off, Percival began to wonder if there really was anyone watching them. So far, they had seen no one hunting or observing them. The birds and mammals had fled already and the Lycan Wood had become nearly silent. If these things were any indication, then the Lycan Wood seemed to have everything but Lycans.
Percival stopped on the path. The others stopped with him, looking puzzled by his relent. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Percival asked.
Master Baanna nodded his furry head vigorously, his orangutan jowls flapping as he did so. Sir Bane simply nodded. “Absolutely, Percival.”
As if to reinforce Sir Bane’s statement, a howl pierced the silence of the forest. Several answering calls erupted among the trees around them. Everyone stopped what they had been doing in order to listen more carefully. “They sound far off,” Percival observed.
“Not as far as I would like,” Sir Bane countered. “We should hurry, Percival.”
“But our show of strength,” Percival started. “We have to stand and fight!”
At that moment, the first wave of Lycans appeared. They moved like blurs coming in from around the trees through the fog. By the time Percival had conjured more flame, they had already overcome two of Sir Bane’s knights. The beasts didn’t bother staying with one victim, but quickly moved on once they had a kill.
Widow Black struck three of the creatures at once with her crimson lightning. Two went down, the third rolled around scorched, but got back up. She hit it again until it stayed down.
Master Baanna and Violet stood back to back with their weapons trained on several Lycan hoping to rip their throats out. One leaped high, but Baanna was already there, dividing the beast in two. Violet slashed with her sword. She wounded one, but it would not retreat fully. It gnashed its wolf-like teeth at her, saliva foaming and dripping onto the misty ground.
Percival and Sir Bane fought more of the beasts near one another. “I told you we should have run!” Bane said. He slashed with his sword then impaled one of the Lycans through its chest. He kicked it off his blade as another moved in.
Percival had tried fire, but it was too slow. The Lycans bypassed it too easily. He imagined deadly vines springing from the ground around him, with razors for thorns. As the Lycan lunged at him, the vines lashed out like whips, catching the beasts. They curled around their victims then spun them like tops, slicing them to ribbons with their thorns in the process.
Sir Bane’s knights fought valiantly, staving off many of the Lycan, but they lost half of their numbers doing so. Percival watched as the situation dissolved into pure chaos. So much for scare tactics, he thought. These creatures did not know the meaning of fear. No matter how many they cut down, more attacked.
More howls came from the distance. Percival realized another wave of Lycans had come to join the slaughter. “Sir Bane, lead the others away while I hold them off!”
Bane turned toward Percival, having just dispatched another Lycan. “We can’t leave you alone, young Master!”
“Baanna will stay with me,” Percival pleaded. “Take them now and get to the Render’s Lair!” They stared one another down, until Sir Bane gave in with a slight nod. Most of this wave of Lycans had been killed, but the next might do them in. Sir Bane called for the others. “Run!”
The knights retreated with only a few wounded Lycan plodding after them. They kept their weapons trained on the beasts until they reached Percival and his vines. The Lycans hesitated just out of reach of the writhing green tentacles. Baanna stood next to Percival. His robe had been torn a little, but otherwise none of the werewolves had managed to do him harm. The same could hardly be said for the rest of the group. Everyone, except Widow Black, had come through with scrapes, bruises and claw marks.
Violet grabbed Percival’s arm, “I’m not leaving you!”
“You have to go, Violet,” Percival pleaded. “I’ll be all right.” He tried to smile and reassure her, but it was forced.
Tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Percival wondered at the sight. He could not remember ever seeing Violet cry. Oh, she may have had that look a few times in anger, but that was the time to run in the other direction. This was totally different. In her eyes, he saw fear welling up in her—a fear that she would never see him again if she turned loose now.
Percival did smile then. “Violet, if God be for me, then who can be against me?”
Something changed in her expression. She knew he was right. He could see it there, plain on her face. “Go with Sir Bane and the others,” he said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Violet’s grip loosened. Sir Bane appeared behind her, taking her shoulders. She didn’t say anything more as he pulled her away. Her gaze remained on Percival, until they broke into a run to catch up to the others.
Percival turned back to Master Baanna still standing with his sword ready. The blood from the Lycans had been burned clean away by the power generated in the blade. It flashed, green fire burning on its surface, ready for more. “I guess it’s just you and me now,” Percival said.
The orangutan placed his large hand on Percival’s shoulder, patting it. Percival reached over and patted the simian’s hand in return. It was good to have someone standing with him, and who better than this mysterious master swordsman?
Percival prepared his mind to fight off the werewolves closing on them. His razor vines waved over them, wai
ting for their next victims. Howls echoed through the trees around them just as the next wave of Lycan charged in.
TOOTH & CLAW
Percival and Baanna stood ready, swords in hand, waiting for the approaching Lycans to attack. The others had been allowed several minutes of running time to escape. Hopefully they had found a suitable place to hide or gone on to the Render’s Lair. “Baanna, do you think you can track the others, if we make it out of this alive?” Percival asked.
Baanna gave him a quick, confident nod, still watching for the werewolves. The sound of pounding paws was closing through the trees now. “They’re almost here,” Percival declared, although it was quite unnecessary. Baanna probably had better hearing than Percival did. Still, it made him feel better to talk even if Baanna couldn’t return the favor.
Percival looked at the sword in his hand. It seemed so inadequate for the attack that was coming. Maybe, it was the fact that it was held in his own hands. He was no swordsman. What better weapon could he use against these werewolves? What would this realm allow him? Then an idea struck him. Percival smiled, hopeful for the first time since encountering the Lycan Wood.
“Baanna, maybe I’ve got something better,” Percival said. The ape looked at him, a puzzling expression on his simian face. The orangutan probably wondered what could be better than a good sword in your hands.
Percival focused on his thoughts, trying to push out the howling gnashing fury headed straight for them. The first Lycan appeared through the massive trees ahead of them, erupting from the fog with several others dogging its heels—hellhounds unleashed. His hands started to shake with fear, but Percival concentrated even harder on the sword in his hands.
The metal dissolved, split its mass between his two hands and reformed as two large chrome plated semiautomatic pistols—the same he had seen in a recent horror flick involving a war between Vampires and Lycans. A grin stretched across his face. He hadn’t thought it would happen—that this realm would allow such a conjuring. Still, he had supposed if man had imagined werewolves and using silver bullets to kill them then surely it had to be a possibility.
Baanna tensed next to Percival, ready to assail their attackers with a vicious counterattack of his own. Percival heard the gnashing of teeth closing in fast—saw the snarling jaws, slobber dripping from jagged teeth. Fear shot up his spine—the thought of having his throat torn out by one of these beasts foremost in his mind.
Then Percival’s training kicked in. He’d always been an avid gamer—Xbox, Playstation—you name it. He was good. He raised both pistols, remembering many a time playing arcade-style first-person shooters with big plastic guns, one in each hand. Percival fired as the Lycans leaped toward him. Two shots killing two beasts.
He landed direct hits. The Lycans screeched in agony beyond mere pain. The silver bullets, by whatever means, scoured their bodies instantly in flame, turning them to ash. They exploded like a thousand scattered dandelion puffs upon hitting the ground.
Percival wasted no time, firing into the approaching pack. Lycans fell like wheat before him while Baanna stood beside him, amazed. Still they came. Their numbers were growing. Percival burned through ammunition clips as fast as he could pull the triggers. The guns grew hot in his hands, but he kept filling them with fresh clips of silver bullets with his mind.
Growling werewolves closed in from the sides now, and Baanna went to work striking furiously at them. There were just too many coming and from too many directions. “They’re aren’t stopping,” Percival yelled above the din. “They must have called every Lycan living in this forest!”
Percival started to retreat. He couldn’t fire fast enough to stave off the attack. Werewolves hurled themselves at him. Bodies flashed into ash with each hit, colliding with Percival and exploding on impact. He had gray ash in his eyes, nose and mouth. Just trying to breath had grown nearly impossible, at this point, not to mention trying to shoot their attackers with any accuracy.
Percival’s razor vines took their turn as living Lycans came within their reach. They seized the beasts in a deadly grip, slicing their lithe bodies to ribbons. Still, they kept coming, and now the werewolves had taken to attacking the base of the razor vines themselves. A difficult chore, but many together had managed to take down two of the dozen or so vines already.
“We have to retreat!” Percival called to Baanna. The Orangutan leaped back to his side, fighting with all of his strength to keep the Lycans at bay, but they were losing ground fast as a seemingly never ending supply sped into the fray from the forest around them. We need a diversion, Percival thought.
He pushed that thought out into this imagined reality. Two brown and white spotted cows appeared between them and the voracious pack of werewolves closing in for the kill. Immediately, the attention shifted from the tough weathered ape and the scrawny youth to the plump delicious bovine before them.
The cows had little time for fear, sputtering simultaneous Moos just before the hungry pack descended upon them like starved piranhas. Percival turned, running away from the ghastly scene with Baanna at his side. He imagined a black stallion saddled before them then climbed onto the horse like a pro, despite never having ridden one of the animals in his life.
Instincts born of life-long movie addiction took over. “Hiya!” Percival cried, snapping the reins and goading the animal with the heels of his boots. Baanna scrambled up onto the horse with ease as Percival and the stallion launched away, leaving the feeding frenzy behind them.