Dark Wolves

by J A Deriu

  “You understand that there is not an account I could send the funds to. All business with you has been prohibited.”

  “This is where I will help you. I do not want the funds released to me. I want the funds sent overseas. Your bank with its branches in every corner of the world has this service. From there the money will be moved, the old-fashioned way, by promissory notes.”

  “That makes no sense – you will still be broke.” Habsburg shook his head.

  Rovis had found a well-positioned park bench under a thick-branched tree and waited with his arms outstretched along the top rail. Carsten walked slowly across the lawn, enjoying the sun on his face. He sat next to his friend.

  “How did it go? What was he doing in that out-of-the-way part of the church?”

  “We did not get to talk about that. The rest went well. The funds are to take wing to the other side of the world. It is all I have – of a monetary nature, that is. It is all gone,” Carsten said in a cool headed way.

  “What is it now, sir?” Birds were chirruping above them. “A quiet life?”

  “Hmm … perhaps not. I will start again, I think.”

  Rovis produced a good-humored smirk. “You are almost ninety years old.”

  “You said ‘almost.’ There is plenty left to go.”

  Rovis laughed.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  They had the look of killers – ugly and snarling faces. Nico did not look at them longer than he had to. They did not show the homage of the other Russians he had met. There was no bow, or military salute, or even the crease of a smile. No high regard for the prince. Anton was on one side of him and Regina the other. Walking behind were the Mongol and the monk Grigory. Together they inspected the soldiers of the rebellion. Nico was unsure of what he was supposed to look for. He glanced at Regina. She seemed to be drawing the eyes of the soldiers. She was dressed for battle. Although she wore a long skirt, she also wore leather boots strapped tightly to her legs and thick belts, with one around her waist and another diagonally across her chest. Anton was less warlike, looking more circumspect, with only a rifle strapped across his back. The monk carried a wooden cross. He lifted it is he passed the soldiers. The Mongol had a weapon in each hand – one of the long rifles the Cossacks used in one hand, and a short sword, still sheathed, in the other. He had a pistol and daggers strapped to his belt, and a longer sword across his back.

  Nico did not know how many soldiers there were. They must have passed hundreds. The wide trunks of the numerous tress made it so that he could not see more than a short distance. The ground was thick with broken twigs. They stopped at a group of faces that he recognized. It was the Cossack captain Dragan and his men.

  They had traveled for days across the land that had been described to him as vast. “The largest empire the world had seen,” Anton said, “until the Ottomans.”

  The Mongol had disputed. “The empire of the Mongols was bigger.”

  For the first time in his travels, Nico had journeyed willingly. He was keen for it to be over. He knew that he was going to a battle. He had been in battle before. It was bad but over quickly. He was sure that this would be the same. And that once it was done, he would be free.

  They had left the large house on the hill. It was only the five of them but after hiking across fields, they joined others whom the count and countess knew. They met under trees. The greetings were brief. There were no discussions. They walked in small groups. The Mongol and the monk stayed with Nico. When they rested, Krum would teach Nico how to use weapons. He showed Nico how to load, aim, and shoot the long rifle. How to fire a pistol when an enemy was close, with a tree acting as the enemy. How to thrust a dagger. And how to slash and parry using a sword, again with a tree as the enemy. He was not told what role he was supposed to have in the battle. His thinking was that it was to be no role. He was there because of his name, and because of his name many more would fight. At night, as he lay with the starry sky above him, he laughed at the absurdity of the situation. His name had been taken from him. He remembered vividly that he had been disowned, a disgrace to the name, and here, on the other side of the world, there were those, hundreds, preparing to fight in his name, for a name that was not his.

  They had sat atop hills, looking down over the repetitive fields. The Mongol was always the first to see a new column of men moving along a path or route. They would meet up later and greet each other with a cold grimness. Some bowed to the prince. A woman held his hand and kissed it.

  Nico realized that there were many of them. He could not see them. They were hidden in the thickly forested country they were moving through, but he knew that they were there by the bluster of those around him.

  After they met with the Cossack captain Dragan, they climbed a steep hill with urgency. Dragan came with them. They came to a bald, flat area, from whence they could overlook the forest. On either side were thickly treed hills looking down over a valley. At the bottom was a river. It looked shallow. Reeds could be seen standing out of the water. Next to the river was a road with stone edges and a hard-dirt surface. A camp had been set up in the clearing. Three Cossacks were waiting for them. Two of them were young. The other one looked older than the monk.

  Nico squatted to wait for his breathing to return to normal. He noticed that they were all looking to a side. One of the young Cossacks had binoculars, and he passed them to Regina. The monk got down on one knee to be next to Nico. “They are coming, boy,” he said. Nico looked back at him with detached eyes. “We have been in battle before,” the monk continued. “Yet I fear this will be much more deadly. If you wish to pray, we can pray together.”

  “You can pray for me,” Nico said and moved the corner of his lip for a smile.

  There was heightened talk from the others. They passed the binoculars from one to another. The Mongol Khan looked and then lifted an eyebrow in a wry way.

  Nico stood up to see what they were looking at. He squeezed his eyes. He could see a thick streak of red at the start of the valley. It moved like a drop of paint across a canvas.

  “There they are, the dumb bastards,” Anton said without emotion.

  A young Cossack came into the clearing from a path that led farther upward. Nico guessed that there were more lookouts higher up. He spoke to Dragan urgently. The Cossack leader grabbed the binoculars from one of his men and held them tightly to his face. He shoved them into the hands of the old Cossack and growled. All of the Russians started speaking at once and gesticulating with their hands. Nico recognized many swear words. The monk shook his head.

  “What is it?” Nico asked him.

  “There are three legions,” the monk answered.

  Nico shrugged to show that he did not know what that meant.

  “There was only supposed to be one legion,” the monk explained. “There is a lot more Ottomans than expected.” The monk glanced at the arguing Russians. “They are debating what to do. There is probably more than twenty thousand Ottomans coming along the road.”

  The arguments continued as the red line marched forward. The Mongol joined the debate, but it was soon between Regina and Dragan. She made a forceful point and turned away from him and crossed her arms as she looked over the valley. Dragan turned to Nico and spoke without taking a breath. Nico tried to follow. The monk was at his side and translated. “He is saying that the Ottomans show contempt for us. To march three legions through this forest with no fears. He is demanding that we attack. The countess is arguing against this. She is saying that there are too many.”

  “Why is he talking to me?”

  “He thinks that you should demand an attack.”

  “Me? What do I know? There does seem a lot of them.” He turned to the khan. “What do you think?”

  “We are here. We are ready. There is a lot of them, and we will be massacred, but I want to try this gun.” He held up the long rifle.

&n
bsp; Nico looked at the long column of Ottomans that had filled the road below. They were almost directly underneath. The thick streak was moving quickly. There were motor vehicles at the front. The growl of their engines rose to their hiding place. Regina loomed in front of him and blocked his view. “We have no option but to retreat. We can pull our men, out but this stubborn mule will not listen. It is best to save ourselves for a battle we can win.”

  Anton stepped next to Regina. “I believe her. She is the best mind that we have. She is right.”

  Nico was unsure of what to do. He knew nothing about warfare. The Ottomans looked formidable. This was not his war. He could not see how an attack would not be dangerous to his well being. He frowned.

  The sound of thunder ripped across the hills. They were all still for a moment. The ground had moved. The sound continued to crackle. Shouts that came from the valley followed it. Nico copied the heads of the others to know where to look. A great cloud of brown smoke billowed at the beginning of the valley. “The blasters did not wait for orders,” Regina said and pulled her pistol out.

  The monk looked at Nico. “They have blocked the road.”

  Ripples of gunfire mixed with the shouts of men. Regina and Dragan glared at each other. Then they turned and hurtled down toward the road. The others followed. Nico was herded to run with them. Anton was next to him. “The battle has started. There is no choice now.”

  He kept himself from falling by angling his boots each time he took a step down the slope. He swerved past a tree. The sound of the battle increased as the land flattened. The gray backs of a line of Cossacks took shape ahead. They moved into the thick of the soldiers. Regina started shouting orders. The Mongol pulled at Nico’s arm. “Stay close to me,” he said.

  “I don’t have a weapon.”

  The khan grabbed a rifle from a batch that was leaning against a tree. He checked that it was loaded and handed it to Nico. He then pulled a short sword from his belt. “You should have a gun and a sword.”

  A bullet hit a tree above their heads. There were Cossacks charging on each side of them. Nico tried to run and at the same moment handle his weapons to make sure that he was ready to use them. The Cossacks had thrown down trees and rocks so that a barrier overlooked the road and shallow river.

  They positioned themselves behind a log. The Mongol checked his weapons. His face was eager. Nico lifted his head to see what was happening. The red tunics of the Ottomans were bunched and seething forward and then back like a tense animal. The Cossacks were shouting instructions at one another. Some of them were standing, and others hid behind the barrier. Firing from the Ottomans smacked against the rocks and trees. Regina stood and crouched with one hand against a log and the other holding her pistol. Anton fidgeted next to her. The smells of river water, reeds, and gunpowder wafted over them.

  The shooting intensified. The monk seemed to have some understanding of what was happening on his sweat-covered face. “It looks like they have the legions surrounded,” he said. “As far as I can see on both sides.” He looked intently at Nico. “We must be part of the charge. We cannot abandon the fatherland at this time.”

  “What charge?”

  “They intend to charge. I have no doubt.”

  “They said that there are too many.”

  “Be brave,” the monk said and clasped his shoulder.

  Regina moved from Cossack to Cossack and spoke to them strongly. She stopped near Nico. Anton crouched behind her and kept his eyes pointed toward the road. “We have no choice,” she said. “We must attack. We can still win. It must be now, as we still have some surprise. I am ordering a charge. You are a prince of the Russians. You must be seen to be part of it. We all go together. Listen for the command.” She held her stare and then abruptly moved away as the noise around them became a din of shooting, screaming birds, and men shouting.

  The Cossacks pushed themselves against the barricades. Nico poked his head above the log for a moment. The red of the Ottomans was as far as he could see. They were formed into rigid lines and scoured in front of themselves for something to shoot at.

  The Mongol and the monk were on either side of him. They both signaled for him to keep his head low. He heard a sound like swarming bees, and then over his head, a flaming missile swooped violently downward toward the Ottomans. It struck into the enemy, and angry shouts followed. The crackle of shooting competed between the two forces. Nico was not sure if the going out or the coming in was prevailing. More fireballs followed. The khan had stiffened his position against the log and was shooting.

  Nico looked back at their side. Cossacks were crouched, stooped, and hiding against trees, logs, and rocks. Their jawlines were tense. Some glanced at Nico and then at their weapons. Those who could position themselves were grimly firing. A soldier screamed. Heads turned for a moment. Not the Mongol. He held his eye low over the barrel of his long rifle and sent another shot with satisfaction into the Ottomans. He lowered his gun to reload it. Nico looked at his own rifle. He remembered the operation to check that it was ready to fire. He did it without thinking and turned to face the enemy. He modeled his position on that of the khan and leveled the rifle to the scene. He freed a hand for a moment to loosen the top button of his shirt so that he could breathe a little easier. He tried to focus on a specific part among the movement. The red tunics were making themselves hard to see, staying low on the ground or moving like disturbed bees. His finger pulled the trigger, and the gun fired. He had aimed at nothing in particular, which was not what he had been taught, but he was overwhelmed by the battle and a compulsion to be part of it. The khan stood for a moment, fired his rifle, and covered again. The smoking casing fell to the ground. He pulled the bolt back. Nico did the same so that his gun was ready to fire again. He was distracted by the fireball of a missile that landed among the Ottomans. He straightened himself, wiped his hand against his tunic, and narrowed his eyes, like the khan was doing, to focus.

  A scream shattered all of the competing noises. It was Regina. She was at the front of the Cossacks with her arm holding her rifle over her head. Nico understood what she was shouting. “For the fatherland!” Cossacks emerged from every part of the forest, with their rifles and bayonets pointed. They hurdled the barrier with the sounds of savage screams. The khan followed. He helped Nico over, and they had no cover in front of them as they became part of the charge. The monk was at Nico’s side. He stumbled on a fallen branch for a moment and then righted himself. A Cossack had fallen in front of them. The khan dodged with skill and moved his eyes as though he knew exactly where he should be looking. Nico forced himself to keep his eyes looking in front.

  The first of the charging Cossacks had clashed with the red of the Ottomans. Others were firing into the mass of men. Their guns almost touched the bodies that they were firing into. Bullets smacked into the ground near Nico. The Mongol aimed, shot, and reloaded his rifle as he ran. There were lines and lines of Ottomans. Nico could see them clearly now. Their red tunics covered them to midthigh, and then tight trousers were tucked into knee-high boots. Their heads were covered by thick-looking white caps. Some had fallen loose and were upturned on the ground.

  Nico was infected with the irresistible energy of the Cossacks. He was only slightly behind a wave of Cossacks that crashed into the Ottomans in a violent collision. The bodies moved at abrupt angles to avoid savage thrusts. It was a brawl with weapons. The Mongol jumped over a fallen body and drove his bayonet into a red tunic. He yanked it free and fired. Nico stayed in his wake as the khan swung and slashed at another body. The monk was behind Nico with his hand pulling at his loose shirt. He yelled, “For the fatherland!”

  Nico tried to recall what the khan had taught him. He was an observer until a bullet hit a young Cossack who was not more than an arm’s length away from him. The Cossack grabbed at his arm and fell. Nico’s energy was quickly transferred to survival. He had experienced enough battle. He
wanted to escape it.

  The Ottomans were being forced backward. The Cossacks were like a pack of feral dogs unleashed. There was a shallow depression before the river. The Ottomans fought to maintain order among their ranks. Those who were fearless stood straight and shouted commands at the others. Their heads soon turned behind them as shooting came from the other side of the river.

  Nico was not sure where to look. There was fighting behind him and on all sides. Another fireball landed on the Ottomans, scattered bodies that were alight and left the smell of burning in the air. They kept moving toward the crucible of the battle. Next to the khan, he felt some safety. The monk clung behind Nico. The khan rushed at an Ottoman who was loading his gun. He knocked the soldier to the ground using his shoulder and then without stopping dug his bayonet into the fallen body.

  Nico’s stomach twisted, and the muscles on his arms were stiff. They had stopped, and the battle was all around. He lifted the rifle. He doubted that he had the skill to hit the right target in the blurred movements of the fighting gray of the Cossacks and red of the Ottomans. His breathing stopped as he watched the action. A Cossack had his hands around the neck of an Ottoman while the Ottoman clawed at his face. They both fell to the ground, and he could not see the outcome. The monk was shouting, and the Mongol fired at any red that moved toward their spot.

  Nico fired. He hit a tree. The casing fell to the ground. He stiffly reset the bolt. The Mongol yelled a bloody cry, and another Ottoman was struck to the ground. There was fighting as far as he could see. It was tenfold worse that any barroom brawl he had witnessed. Two Cossacks held down an Ottoman as another beat him with the butt of a rifle. An Ottoman slashed a sword, and the head of a Cossack looked like it was cut from his body. He could see all this from the safety at the rear of the khan. Endless skirmishes stretched in front of him. Bodies were tossed like toys. Those already on the ground were trampled on and further mangled. Nico looked to shoot, to do something to quell the dread. He could only see a future as one of the screwed-up bodies.