Hellion Mage

by James Green

  "God's balls, I count at least fifteen," Ulmar said.

  I nodded. "Might be twenty."

  The wolf pup jumped up, his nose snuffling around my left armpit. I looked down, puzzled as his solemn yellow eyes looked back into mine. He was sniffing around the edge of my brand, seeming curious about it. A pink tongue flicked out, and I felt a strange sensation as it brushed the edge of the brand. It was almost like for a moment we were connected, in some way I couldn't explain.

  I crouched down, scratching behind the wolves ears as I continued to watch the camp.

  "That wolf has taken to you,” Ulmar said. “I see you have a brand there, are you a tamer?"

  "Just a Queen’s spear. No magical affinity," I replied. Even though I'd wished for one nearly every day, no affinity had ever shown itself.

  "All I know is I've never seen a hellion take to a human like this one has taken to you. He seems to be interested in your brand.”

  The wolf definitely was. I loosened the armor on my left side and pulled the stiff leather away to expose the full brand.

  It was as I remembered, a seemingly random pattern of raised scar tissue, impressed upon my flesh when I was a boy by a drunken man late at night as the father I'd never met stood over me, looking down. He had told me it was for my own good, that one day I would thank him for this. That I was a rare bastard to be given this privilege. Then he and my mother had held me down while the strange man reeking of alcohol and power had applied the magically glowing brand. I had screamed as it burnt my flesh but although my mother had cried, she hadn’t let go of my arm.

  The brand had been the same ever since, even though over the years in the Queen’s Army I had absorbed exactly 152 shards from the odd wild hellion my Fist encountered and killed on patrol.

  The wolf licked the exposed brand, and the feeling was incredibly strange. The scars began to shift in front of my very eyes, the random pattern reconfiguring itself, first into that of a spiked collar, and then finally into another more geometric pattern I couldn't recognize.

  A voice spoke in my head. "I'm yours, master."

  I jolted but realized immediately who was speaking. It was the wolf pup.

  "Gods, I haven't seen that brand in a long time. A Beast Mage," Ulmar said.

  "That’s what this brand is?" I asked.

  Beast Mages were rare. They were like Tamers, but in addition to taming wild hellions, they could channel their shards into them and enhance them.

  "Are you sure?" I asked. I had never seen this icon before, not that I had seen many other than the most common.

  "Aye. I worked with one, back in the day."

  The wolf, continuing to look at me expectantly, didn't have anything more to say. I almost thought that I had imagined that, but the memory of the voice was still fresh in my head. I didn't imagine things—the wolf really had spoken to me.

  "Hells, we’re going to have to fight our way out, William. They are leaving no gap in their line as they search. They will be here soon enough. We'll have no choice but to try to break out. That, or we make our stand here. We have solid cover, and two narrow approaches where they can come at us. If we’re to fight it must be here, rather than the woods.”

  "There are at least twenty of them. There are two of us, and this pup.”

  "Aye, I know. I'd rather die fighting then get shot in the back trying to flee through the woods, wouldn’t you?"

  The thought of dying didn’t bother me, really. I’d been facing it every day on duty. When you picked up that shield and spear, you knew that eventually something would kill you. That was what soldiers did—they died.

  I looked at the wolf pup and then back at Ulmar. "Today's as good a day to die as any.”

  The wolf nudged me forcefully then. I looked back at him. He didn't say anything, but I could almost hear the word fool echoing in my head.

  I scratched behind his left ear, resting my hand on his muscular neck. He leaned into the hand, looking expectantly at me.

  My brand felt strange, pulsing on my chest. If Ulmar was right, I was now a Beast Mage. I should be able to enhance this wolf in some way. The pup had said he was mine, so could I make him bigger? More powerful?

  Without thinking—without needing to think—I pushed. I could feel the shards—the power—flowing from my brand down my arm into the hand resting on the wolf.

  The pup’s eyes began to glow a bright blue as more and more power flowed from me to it. I pushed as much as I could, and then when it felt like I was depleted, I stopped. The wolf’s eyes were glowing a bright blue, smoking streamers of energy floating from them up into the night air. The wolf blinked and lay down, closing its eyes.

  "Oh shit, what have I done?" I asked.

  "Patience," Ulmar said, watching closely.

  As I watched, the wolf pup began to grow. The jet black fur turned blue and silver and began to glow slightly in the dark. I stepped back as it went from the size of a large dog to the size of a small pony in moments, muscles bunching underneath the unearthly fur.

  When he raised his head and opened his eyes again, they had turned from the golden yellow of a hellion wolf to an ice blue, but I could still see the same wolf pup inside.

  He stood, and towered over me, his shoulder at mine.

  "I need a name," the wolf’s voice said in my head.

  His name leapt into my mind, coming from nowhere.

  "Your name is Mithra," I told him.

  "Hells, William. We may get out of this alive after all," Ulmar said.

  Mithra, Arcane Wolf, Rank: E

  "Today's not a good day to die after all, Ulmar. Let's kill them all," I said, slapping Mithra on the shoulder.

  Mithra gave me a doggy grin, his immense mouth full of long, sharp teeth.

  Chapter 2

  I glanced out from behind the covering wagon and saw the advancing bandits draw closer and closer. They were a ragged lot—hard-bitten men with an assortment of rusted short swords and clubs.

  With an unspoken command, Mithra bounded out from behind the wagon. A low and terrifyingly-loud growl echoed through the clearing as he charged the line of advancing men. I ran after him, and Ulmar followed.

  At least one of the men screamed in terror as the immense glowing-blue wolf plowed into a group of three. The beast’s sheer mass threw a bandit off his feet while enormous jaws snapped down on another’s leg with a crackle of breaking bones. The unfortunate bandit screamed as Mithra shook him like a rag doll and flung him away.

  I charged into position on Mithra’s left and shield-slammed a bandit brave enough to dart in for a thrust with his short sword. A quick slash with the sharp edge of my spear opened him from groin to nipple, instantly soaking his ragged clothing with his own blood. He stumbled backward and then fell, out of the fight.

  I heard a deep bellow and a quick clash of metal as blades skipped off Ulmar’s armor. Half an arm flew away, a rusty short sword still clutched in its hand as the dwarven knight went to work with his two-handed sword.

  With Ulmar on his right and me on his left, Mithra formed the point of our triangle and the bandits broke upon us like a wave upon a deadly shore.

  A greasy-skinned bandit with a dagger in each hand tried to get behind my shield to my left, obviously expecting me to turn to keep him in sight. The look of surprise on his face when I darted out of formation and slammed the point of my spear through his chest just underneath his breastbone was quite satisfying.

  When another bandit rushed into the gap I’d left, I thrust backward, and my spear’s counterweight crushed the man’s knee. He screamed in pain and stumbled back. Mithra turned and effortlessly clamped his jaws on the man’s entire left shoulder before tossing him into a newly arriving group of bandits.

  I returned to my spot just in time to see Diego leading a group of eight men, all of them seeming less hungry and desperate than the ones we’d just killed. Their blades weren’t tarnished with rust, and a few even sported breastplates. These were dangerous men. Still, they
hesitated upon seeing Mithra, Ulmar, and I bathed in the blood of their friends.

  “They’ve got a Hellion, Diego,” a bandit said, hesitating.

  “You’ve seen Hellions before, Ahmad. Get in there, all of you. Kill them!” Diego ordered, and the bandits surged forward.

  These bandits weren’t chaotic, mostly-unskilled brawlers, and they rallied the first wave of bandits as they charged and joined the attack.

  I was hard pressed immediately. Four bandits were thrusting and hacking at every exposed piece of me. My shield and spear kept me safe, but the bandits left no time for attack. I needed an opening.

  I heard Ulmar roar in rage, an incoherent shout of what might have been words. There was a mighty clash of steel on steel as the dwarf smashed into the line of bandits, his giant blade swinging.

  “Baresark!” someone yelled, and then all was chaos.

  The broken corpse of a bandit flew from my right, nearly cloven in two as Ulmar rampaged into the bandits. The man’s body smashed into the men in front of me, and I had my opening.

  The world narrowed, becoming nothing more than the battle. I lashed out with my shield, and the edge cracked an elbow. My spear flashed out and the point ripped open a belly as I pivoted on my right foot and spun. The bandit dropped his sword and vainly used his hands to keep his guts in. He fell backward after the counterweight on the end of my spear smashed him in the temple.

  I turned a bandit’s thrusting blade with the haft of my spear and stepped in. My fist smashed into his face and broke his nose, but he was a strong man and it didn’t faze him for more than a moment. Driving the counterweight down into the top of his boot did, however. He screamed and lurched backward as I pulled the spear free of his ruined foot.

  With a contemptuous flick of my shield I batted aside a desperate slash from another bandit. Using an underhand thrust I went for his belly but my aim was a bit off. Instead of gutting him the heavy point of my spear was a little lower and I shattered his pelvis. Blood sprayed from the wound as I opened multiple arteries. The man sat down hard. He’d bleed out in moments.

  The fourth bandit took off a dead run, dropping his club as he did so. Mithra tackled him before he could read the trees and mauled his face. The man with the broken nose and destroyed foot was limping away but hadn’t got very far. I lunged toward him, dropped to one knee, and plunged my spear into his liver.

  I turned back to the rest of the battle as Mithra chased bandits around the clearing. Blood covered his fur, and I doubted a single drop was his own.

  Ulmar, however, was in trouble.

  Despite his strength and his berserk rage, three of the bandits were holding his arms while a fourth—Diego—slammed his scimitar over and over into the dwarf’s helm. Ulmar was roaring and attempting to break away but I could see that soon Diego must find a weakness in Ulmar’s formidable plate.

  I sprinted, the point of my spear aimed straight at Diego. He had to go.

  He saw me coming at the last moment and pivoted, his scimitar sweeping down in an expert parry. It was just enough to push the spear point off target. I hadn’t paused in my charge, however, and I hit him at a full run. His impact with the face of my shield was like a building had rushed him. He flew through the air and rolled when he hit the ground.

  I pivoted, thrust forward, and skewered the large man struggling to hold Ulmar’s left arm. He choked on his own blood, and the dwarf knight broke free.

  Ulmar lashed out with his gauntleted left hand and clocked one of the remaining two bandits. The two men let go before they rapidly backpedaled and scooped up their dropped weapons.

  I turned back to Diego in time to see him get to his feet unsteadily. He surveyed the battlefield and turned to run after seeing the reality of his situation.

  I adjusted my grip and took a different stance. As Diego made for the edge of the clearing, I drew back my arm back and threw all my weight forward before I released my spear.

  “Diego!” I yelled as my weapon arced beautifully through the air.

  He looked over his shoulder at me, the sneer at seeing me standing there weaponless lasting only a heartbeat before the spear took him high in the center of his back. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut as the point shattered his spine. He lay still on the ground, my spear’s counterweight aimed at the heavens.

  Something, some instinct, made me look left. A bloody blade the length of a door flashed through the air seeking my head. I jerked the shield up and the heavy impact of the sword pushed me back a step. Ulmar was trying to kill me.

  “What in the hells, Ulmar!” I yelled.

  I could see only madness in his eyes. He was lost in his berserker rage, and I was just another enemy on a battlefield full of them. I had heard that some of the dwarves were berserkers, but I’d never imagined that a knight would be.

  “Ulmar! It’s me! Stop, the battle is won!”

  Mithra charged Ulmar from behind, growling. Only a frantic mental order kept the wolf from leaping onto Ulmar’s back. Maybe it would come to that, but I couldn’t see how fighting him would get Ulmar out of his berserk rage.

  I deflected another sweeping strike of Ulmar’s two handed sword, taking care to deflect it properly rather than try to take the brunt of the blow on my shield. The standard issue shields were strong, but they could be broken.

  “Ulmar! Snap out of it. You’re a knight of the Queen. Act like it! The battle is over!”

  The dwarven knight raised his blade again and then paused. The madness began to leave his eyes.

  “William? It’s you,” Ulmar said and lowered his blade.

  “Yes, it’s me. Glad you’re back with us.”

  “My apologies, lad. When the rage takes me it’s hard to come back out of it.”

  I simply nodded, accepting his apology. Behind him Mithra closed his mouth and sat as he looked around the clearing full of brutalized corpses.

  Ulmar glanced over his shoulder at Mithra sitting directly behind him. “I guess it’s good for me that the rage left me, or your beast there would have been chewing on me. I’d be bad for your teeth, pup.” He grinned.

  I walked over to Diego and claimed my spear from his back. With the toe of my boot, I rolled him over. He was dead, my spear having taken his heart at the same time as it severed his spine. The look of surprise and horror was still on his face. I felt mildly satisfied by that.

  Mithra came beside me, and I stroked the fur on his massive neck. It was rough and metallic-feeling. I could tell that he desired something from me.

  “What is it you want?” I looked the wolf over and although covered in blood he didn’t seem to be wounded.

  “He’ll want you to pull the power from him, William,” Ulmar said from where he was meticulously cleaning the blood and gore from his sword. “He’s just a pup, he can only take it for so long. As he grows, he’ll be able to take more, and for longer. If you keep him in that form for too long you can injure or even kill him.”

  With something that felt like agreement coming from Mithra, I concentrated for a moment and then felt the power—the shards—flowing back into me from the Arcane Wolf, siphoning out of him like water down a drain.

  When the process was completed, Mithra lay down and the color rapidly left his eyes. His fur began to change color as he returned to his normal size. Soon he was back to being the emaciated pup I’d found in the cage. I scratched his ears and he gave my hand a lick.

  “Ulmar, I’ve got to return to my company and report. The captain will most likely send a Fist to clean this up and take Shamus’s body.”

  “Not quite yet, soldier,” a light voice said.

  I turned to face the new threat, and relaxed when I saw a tall woman in light steel armor wearing the colors of the Queen. She wore a sheathed sword on each shapely hip, and the faint glow of empowered arcane symbols emanated from the weapons. Her left hand rested on one of the pommels as she picked her way across the clearing. I admired the way she moved with a sure grace as she approached
.

  “Lady Anastasia,” Ulmar said in a respectful tone.

  “Ulmar. I see you’ve found the missing wagon. Well done, I’m sure the Queen will be pleased. You’ve also taken care of these scum and saved me some work. For that I thank you.”

  Lady Anastasia’s gaze turned to me and took me in. “And you, sol-“ she began, and then her eyes found Mithra at my feet. Her hands dropped to her hilts and in a smooth, blindingly-fast motion her swords were in her hands.

  Without thinking I stepped in front of Mithra as I raised my shield and spear. I watched her over the rim, waiting for her first move. It might have been the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but I now shared a bond with the wolf. I didn’t know the strength of our unity, but I couldn’t allow anyone to harm him. Not even a Lady.

  “It is a high crime to raise arms against a Valkyrie, spearman. Explain yourself or die.”

  Damn, a Valkyrie? They were the order of female knights the Queen tasked with her personal protection. I was screwed if this came to a fight, but I wouldn’t just let her kill Mithra.

  “Mithra is my friend and I’ll not have you hurting him,” I said.

  “Milady, he’s a Beast Mage and that is his first bonded hellion,” Ulmar said. “Please, forgive him. Without him and his wolf I’m sure these rabble would have bested me.”

  “A Beast Mage? How fortunate. The Queen will have use for you. What is your name, soldier?” she asked.

  “I’m William, Lady,” I replied. She sheathed her swords, and I lowered my spear and sword, the tension draining away.

  “Lady Anastasia,” a voice rumbled from the edge of the clearing as another man pushed his way through the brush.

  He was a giant of a man in intimidating black plate mail. He walked easily, as if the weight of the steel was nothing to him. He carried a tower shield on his left arm and a large, flanged mace in the other. Something in me screamed out that this man was dangerous, but he was also wearing the livery of the Queen.

  He was followed by several other men in armor with drawn swords. They spread out through the clearing and began to check the bodies.