Brace For the Wolves

by Nathan Thompson

  “I honestly haven’t decided yet,” I replied, somewhat defensively. “It will depend on what benefits they look like they can give and…”

  “It’s okay, Wes,” Breena said while giving me a pat on the shoulder. “I’ve accepted this part of you now. Be free.”

  I rolled my eyes at her.

  “Thanks. Who else should I be talking to about this people management thing?”

  “Me, I guess,” Breena admitted. “I rescued the first batch, and as I Rise with you I’ll be able to access more memories. I can help you learn more city or people management skills. Speaking of which, you’ve progressed enough for me to teach you new Ideal spells. You might even start discovering a few on your own.”

  “Great,” I replied. “I’m excited to learn what I can do.”

  “Yeah, me...too,” she said unconvincingly. “But the person who can help you the most is probably Guineve. She’s the strongest of all of Stell’s Satellites, and so she’s going to have the most knowledge, even if she can’t easily leave Avalon. Especially because she’s helped Stell the most with managing all the worlds. Finally, she likes helping people. I know I stopped you from going out there earlier, but the moment we’re sure that you and your team is strong enough, we need to head out there and rescue her.”

  “No arguments here,” I growled. “Speaking of which, I need to check the perimeter.”

  I had decided to Rise some distance away from the refugees, just to be safe. Now that we were walking back to them I realized I needed to deal with all the furry squatters on our yard.

  We stopped on our way to check on the rescued prisoners. Everyone was clearly still scared about everything, but they looked hopeful, and many of the prisoners from different groups apparently knew each other. There were still a lot of tearful reunions going on.

  The best thing ever, though, was seeing Breena and Little Gabby hit it off immediately.

  “Oh my gosh!” Breena squealed. “YOU ARE SO! CUTE!”

  “You’re so pretty and tiny!” Gabby squealed back. “Buddy Wes! Isn’t she pretty? And pink! She’s pink, Buddy Wes! She’s pretty and tiny and pink! Can she be my friend?”

  “Thank you!” Breena said as she buzzed around the little girl’s head. “You are so pretty and tiny and brown! And yes! Let’s be friends!”

  Little Gabby let out a happy shout, and I waved goodbye to the pair of them while they went to go play. That was fine. Breena could help me the best right now by settling everyone down, especially the kids. For now, though, I figured I needed to check on the perimeter, because safety was going to be everyone’s first concern anyway, and I needed to go address it. I stopped to give Emalee a brief heads-up and then I walked away from the ruins and back towards the clearing.

  I found Weylin near the edge. The long-haired elf was looking for all the world like the typical fantasy ranger, wrapped up in a thick cloak, bow out, watching the trees on the other side of the clearing.

  “Any news?” I asked quietly as I walked next to him.

  “They’re still out there,” the young-looking man answered quietly. He pointed carefully by motioning with his head. “Just a bit behind the first layer of trees. Probably in case I try to shoot them.”

  I looked out into the morning mists. Sure enough, every now and then something long and furry moved between two trees. Other times two little pairs of eyes would flash in my direction. They seemed to linger for a moment, as if to make sure I could see them, then they would vanish.

  “How many have you seen?” I asked, not taking my eyes off of the slinking lupine shapes.

  “Right now? Three,” Weylin answered confidently. “Which means that there’s at least five of them out there. Earlier I could see as many as seven.”

  “Have they done anything other than sit there and wait?”

  “Rarely,” Weylin answered with another shake of his head. “Every few hours or so, one of them would creep forward and sniff at the edge of the wards. But they won’t cross over themselves. They won’t even leave the treeline.”

  “That’s weird,” I said. “If they can’t attack, there’s no point in leaving anything other than a small guarding presence. There should be two howlers max out here right now. And they shouldn’t be so obvious about being seen.”

  The song-mage nodded back at me.

  “They don’t know I’ve seen more than two. And they don’t know that I hear all five.”

  “But why let us see them at all?” I asked.

  “Because they’re wolves,” Weylin said as he stared forward.

  “What do you mean? Wait,” I added. “Do you mean they’re trying to bait us?”

  My ranger, and singer, nodded.

  “They know we have no more than four warriors, five if you count the little sprite-woman. And they have seen us all in combat. They know our number and our fighting strength. Since they cannot cross our hallowed ground, they seek to lure us out. One or two will try and bait you. Then the rest will pounce on your flank.”

  “Just like normal wolves. You’re right,” I nodded. “This means that they are confident in killing one or more of us with those five out there.”

  “Again, they know our strength. But we do not know theirs. They will deceive. And then they will strike. When midday comes, and there is a greater chance of us leaving with our whole number, then more will come and watch from the trees.”

  I wanted to argue that he was basing most of his assessments on guesswork, but I couldn’t think of a better explanation for the howlers’ behavior.

  “Do you think that they’re here because they have the numbers to post a watch, or is this most of the pack, and they just have nothing better to do than hunt us?”

  “Based on the Mongrel’s speech, you are their main focus.” Weylin shook his head again. “You do not understand, Challenger. For decades, the Horde has been ravaging communities, making the chant you heard last night. The scholars of our own order have been trying to translate that same chant, debate its meaning, and across all of the worlds, only now, by hearing you interpret their tongue, have we gained the knowledge of it. For as long as you were imprisoned in this world of warped time, they have been outside hunting for the one they call the ‘traitor-prince.’ You are their obsession, Challenger. On every world. And for every breed of Horde.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said while shaking my head. “They had to have known where I was. The Malus Order can create their freaking pits.” Weylin widened his eyes at that statement. I ignored him. “I’m tired of all this mystery and nonsense. Cover me with your bow. I’m going out to talk to them.”

  “What?” the ranger asked sharply. I got the feeling he thought that was a bad idea.

  “I’m going to holler at them from about the middle of the clearing. I won’t get much closer than that. First sign of trouble either of us notice, I’m hightailing it back here.”

  “What if they’re faster than you?”

  “They probably are,” I admitted. “But the wards on the clearing are supposed to hamper them significantly, or they would have come closer last night. And if they completely outclassed me in speed they would have attacked last night instead of trying to track and harass us.”

  “Fine,” the elf nodded. “But I don’t like this.”

  “Me neither,” I said as I reactivated Shocking Digits, my various enhancement spells and stored another Lightning Bolt in my wrist. “But I can’t think of any other ideas. I’m going now.”

  With that, I made a show of readying my weapons. I kept my two swords and my mace in sheaths or loops on my belt. I drew my spear, and let my shield hang loosely on my back to where I could remove it quickly if needed.

  Then I began to walk forward slowly, and before I reached the center of the clearing I began to call out.

  “I seek parley with the leaders of the Horde!”

  Eye-lights winked out. Brown and grey fur vanished from view. Claw feet scraped as they quickly moved backwards.

&n
bsp; I waited for a minute. Then I waited for another minute. Then I called out once again.

  “I seek parley with the leaders of the Horde!”

  More shuffling, without a figure daring to break cover for a single moment. I waited another minute, then something howled. No chanting followed. But far away in the distance, something else howled back. The last howl sounded as if it came from a much larger beast. The two voices howled back and forth for over a minute, and then I heard the breaking of twigs as something large and powerful moved forward. I caught a glimpse of something tall and bipedal peek briefly through the trees before hiding again.

  But still, nothing came forward.

  I called out once again.

  “Well? Do you fear me that much? You dared to speak to my back in the night! Will you confront my face in the daytime? Come parley! It’s not like you don’t understand my native tongue!”

  I jammed the blunt end of my spear into the ground and stood as tall as I could. I heard my joints crack slightly as I did so, and for a moment I wondered if I had somehow grown taller recently.

  Finally, though, a shape detached itself from the trees.

  It walked upright on two wolf-like legs, though it slouched at the shoulder height, making the beast loom forward slightly. I suspected that if it stood perfectly straight it would be almost nine feet tall. As it was, the monster was easily seven and a half feet tall. Coarse, rough brown fur covered the monster’s body, and it wore a ragged black loincloth over its waist. The sharp tips of its foreclaws could reach its knees as it walked, and I realized the monster would have a serious advantage of reach in a close-combat fight. Its head was much like a wolf’s, except that the muzzle was completely devoid of fur, its mouth and cheeks showing wrinkled gray flesh.

  The creature took a few steps, no more than three, into the clearing, wincing as it did so. As it did that, my mind-screen activated.

  “Superseding normal warning for foreign contaminant,” Avalon said in my mind. “Foreign contaminant is a new variant of Horde, suspected to be equivalent to a Spawn-class Horde having undergone at least one Descent. Possesses additional power granted by the Dark Icon known as the Raw-Mawed Wolf. No data found on the Raw-Mawed Wolf. No further data available for new class of Horde.

  “Caution is advised. Beware.”

  “You called for parley, little prey?” the monster rumbled, his voice thick with spit. “Does the traitor-prince wish to speak?”

  He sounded bold, scornful even. But he remained a great distance away, and his eyes kept darting to the sides, as if he were fearful of something behind him.

  “Yes.” I said firmly. “Tell me why you call me the traitor-prince. Also tell me why you can speak English, and why you hunt me.”

  The monster cocked his head at me, ragged canine ears fluttering as he did so.

  “The traitor-prince is named because he is the traitor-prince. We speak the tongue of the traitor-prince, because he is the traitor-prince. And we hunt the traitor-prince,” the monster added with a growl, “Because he is the traitor-prince. These answers should be obvious.”

  “They are spectacularly unhelpful,” I growled back. His reply was baffling, and strangely… scripted. But my Risen mind was able spin out a path that might lead to answers. “Explain why you think I am the traitor-prince. Why am I a prince at all? What made me a prince? And if I am your prince, who are you to call me traitor?”

  The lanky monster leaned away from me as I asked that last question. His expression suggested discomfort as he considered my words. I glared and waited for him to answer.

  “You are a traitor because Father says so, traitor-prince!” the wolfman finally snarled. “And you were born a prince because of your royal blood! Which you betrayed!” He pointed a clawed finger at me as he spoke now. “Do you hear me, traitor-prince? Royal blood! Your gene-maker bent entire worlds under him! Pit Lords would cross the Expanse just to kneel at his talons and offer him worship! Even the Umbras, proud as they were, called him equal! The hungers he taught us how to sate kept Pits and bellies full, and strong, everywhere! We thought him to be lost! We thought his precious genes to be lost! But Father said he would return,” the wolfman crooned strangely, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Said that his blood was not lost. That another would come, and with his blood and knowledge we would sate old hungers forgotten by time. Father promised us all,” the beast continued. His passion was horribly fascinating. It was like watching a trainwreck happen at a drugged-out rave party, and the ravers were driving both trains.

  “He sang these truths to us when we birthed,” the beast snarled. “We would know more! Have more! And all the little prey-beasts—” the monster pointed back to where Weylin was—“would have less! Which meant we would have more still! All because of the one who would return, and teach us better ways to sate ourselves! To be more full while the Lessers starved! Then you come,” the creature continued, “bearing the royal blood Father had taught us to wait for! You were there at the first Pit in these lands. Father said we tried to give you gifts! Sweet, young things! Unharmed, unspoiled, one already being prepared for you! And what did you do?” the creature hissed. “You wasted them! You took from the Pit! You stole her straight from the Pit! Then you freed them, clothed them, soothed them so that they would feel safe! You made them feel safe! You wasted prey! Bad! Wrong! Bad-wrong traitor-prince! How dare you? How could you? How could you, traitor-prince!”

  It was my turn to cock my head at the thing. For a moment we just stared at each other. I opened my mouth to produce words, and failed. I tried a second and third time, and the results were no different. Forget the trainwreck analogy, I decided. It was like the creature’s words were creating some kind of drug-rave apocalypse.

  “Well?” he demanded, and I could see that he really wanted an explanation from me. That it felt like he was the wronged party in all of this.

  “That’s it?” I finally asked. “That’s really what this is all about?”

  “You wasted prey, traitor-prince,” the creature snarled. “Do not lie. You know what you did. We know all about it.”

  “Let me make sure,” I said slowly. As horrifying as this all was, I couldn’t not talk to the thing right now. My head would snap if I didn’t. “Let me just break this down. The suffering of those fairies back there was so important, so necessary, that my helping them provoked this level of outrage? That’s what these chants and murder-hunts have been about? I stopped some other Horde from doing all kinds of horrible things to tiny innocent women, so all of you, everywhere, have been on this raging hunt, one that spanned across entire worlds? That’s what you’re angry about?”

  “No,” the monster spat. “That was bad enough, traitor-prince. But you did not stop there.” The monster hesitated, and looked back out to woods where the other howlers were waiting. It felt like he was seeking approval to continue speaking, though I didn’t know why, because that still didn’t make sense. At any rate, he continued, forcing the words out of his snarling maw like it was a confession that hurt.

  “You told us to do the same, traitor-prince. Told us to waste prey like you did.”

  If he was expecting to me to grasp the enormity of that statement, he was going to be severely disappointed by my next question.

  “And that’s bad because…”

  “Because of who you are, traitor-prince!” the monster howled, and I thought Weylin might have jumped back and raised his bow in surprise. “You gave a command, and it echoed through our pit-genes! We were forced to remember it, no matter how foolish, or wrong, or weird.” The creature suddenly shuddered, as if he was the one being disturbed right now. “No matter how weird it was! You had authority, and your first use of it was to try and make us warped! Make it so that having prey was less filling! The things we had been doing for all of time suddenly felt different, and you did that! You made having prey feel different! Less filling! You made having a bride-meal feel wrong, when it never did in the past! Do you know how many bride-mea
ls escaped because of what you did?” The monster’s voice dropped to a hush, as if he were sharing a deeply shameful secret. “Do you know how many bride-meals were able to kill brother Horde and get away? Because the memory of your words made having them harder? We have to work to resist those commands, traitor-prince, the commands you made in the sanctity of a pit! It is only because we know what will happen to us if we obey you, how hungry and empty we will be if we listen, that we can see your warped desires for what they are! The urges of a broken mind, twisted by an unnatural closeness with that which would should be prey! You would have all the pretty and tasty prey dance and sing and do other useless things—” the creature pointed at my elf friend again—“while we would have just lusted, and starved, and raged, and never be sated! Liar! False teacher! Bad, wrong traitor-prince!”

  Words failed me again. I stared at this thing, this hate-beast, and just couldn’t understand him.

  Yes you can, Pain whispered inside of me, frightening me with the return of its voice. I had my brain buckle down on it, suppress it back to my subconscious.

  “You are all that committed to hurting and degrading people,” I finally realized. “Nothing can come between you all and that goal… I can’t understand it.”

  “It is our birthright,” the monster snarled. “Your birthright! Our purpose and our joy! And you turned your back on it! You are a not-thing, traitor-prince! You are false, and you are wrong, and you want us to be wrong with you!”

  “Right, we’re done here,” I decided. “This has been a thoroughly unwholesome experience, and I have you to thank for that. Last question: Your allies captured me two months ago in Avalon-time, but somehow fifty years passed everywhere else. That means you have been hunting me all this time?”

  “Yes,” the howler said flatly.