Night of Wolves

David Dalglish
1

Jerico watched the river flow, the half-moon’s reflection sparkling atop its waters, and from its darkness the creature emerged. Despite his training, despite discovering the crossing they’d used to harass the nearby village, the paladin felt his confidence falter.

“Be with me, Ashhur,” he whispered as it swam toward him, its eyes gleaming yellow. He could only see the top of its head, a brief stroke of its arms, and the curve of its spine. Every inch was matted with wet fur, and it shone slick in the moonlight. One of its strokes pushed its head fully above water, and he saw rows of teeth before they sank below. It was those teeth that had devoured three children and their mother two nights before. Water dripped from its long claws as it stepped upon the shore. It was those claws that had torn the entrails from their bodies so it might feed.

A wolf-man, bastard creation of the god Karak and an unwanted relic of a war centuries past. It approached on two legs, its body hunched, its muscles taut and frightening. Jerico wondered how useful his platemail would be against those claws and teeth. The armor would do nothing if the creature grabbed his head and ripped it off his shoulders. He watched from the cover of trees that grew to the water’s edge, his right hand clutching the handle of his mace. Slung upon his back was his shield, which he kept there, deciding he needed at least one surprise come the fight.

At the Citadel, he’d been trained to face all opponents with honor. An ambush, or stab in the back, was considered shameful. Jerico wondered if the same rules applied to the wolf-men. He’d never fought one before, only heard stories of their savagery.

Before he could decide, the creature stopped, and he heard sniffing.

“Man?” it growled, and Jerico felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. “Where is it you hide?”

With that nose, it’d only be a matter of time before it found him. Cursing his stupidity, he stepped from behind his cover, mere feet to the side of the wolf-man. It turned, and even with its hunched back, it still towered over him. His weapon shook in his hand as those yellow eyes narrowed when meeting his own.

“Leave now,” Jerico said. “The village is under my protection, and I will kill you if I must.”

The wolf-man laughed, its whole body shuddering. Its voice was deep and gravely. Jerico slipped his left arm back, grabbing the leather straps holding his shield. A single tug, and he’d have it at the ready.

“You want us imprisoned in the Wedge,” said the creature, referring to the vast land beyond the river. “You wish us to starve and die. But there is food here, human. Food…”

It lunged, accompanied by a thunderous roar. Jerico stepped to the side, avoiding its charge. His mace connected with its chest, but hit so much muscle and hair it only tore free a small chunk of flesh. The creature’s claws slashed his armor, scraping the metal with a horrific screech. Jerico swung again, this time aiming for its head. The wolf-man moved with amazing speed for its size, ducking underneath the attack and then grabbing his wrist. With its greater strength, it held his weapon back, leaving him defenseless. Its drooling teeth snapped inward, aiming for his neck.

Jerico pulled the straps. Down came the shield, its steel shining a soft blue as he cried out to his god. The wolf-man’s teeth snapped against it, and he felt his arm jolt at the contact. The creature howled, blood spurting from its nose.

“Back!” he cried, ramming with his shield. His heart hammered in his chest, and his eyes felt wide as saucers, but he’d survived the initial confrontation. The light of his shield grew, its power equivalent to the strength of his faith. The wolf-man released his arm, instead protecting its eyes from the light. With it dazed and on the defensive, Jerico tried to finish it off. His mace came in for the side of its head, but his confidence soon turned to panic. The wolf-man batted it aside with an arm, howled, and then attacked. The muscles in its legs were powerful, and it closed the distance with such speed he didn’t have time to brace himself.

The creature shoved aside his poorly positioned shield and then rammed into his chest. Jerico flew back several feet, halting when he hit a tree. The air blasted from his lungs, and his vision swam from where his head struck the bark. Blood trickled down his neck.

“Your towers stop nothing,” said the wolf-men as it stalked toward him, blood from its nose dripping across its teeth. “We come to feast, foolish man, and we are greater than you humans. We are not dogs. We are not orcs. You cannot stop us.”

Jerico held his mace and shield before him, but his legs felt rubbery. He tried to focus, to anticipate the attack, but all he could do was stare at those yellow eyes and wonder how painful his death might be. Would he be alive when it ate him? His weight leaning against the tree, he vowed to fight until the wolf-man had no choice but to lop off his head.

“Greet me with open arms,” he whispered to Ashhur as the wolf-man crouched down, preparing another lethal charge. But instead of leaping, it tilted to the side, and a pained howl escaped its throat. Dark fire swarmed across its body, and blood soon followed. It turned to run, one of its legs twisted at an awkward angle, but then a sword punched through its skull.

His armor was dark, the fire on his blades darker, so when Darius pulled his weapon free, he seemed a shadow blacker than the night itself.

“Ashhur won’t need to take you yet,” Darius said as the blood sizzled in the fire of his blade. His blue eyes twinkled. “And you can thank Karak for that.”

Jerico slung his shield on his back and then rubbed his forehead. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“I didn’t know you were following me.”

“Neither did the wolf.”

He suddenly felt ashamed for showing weakness before his rival, so he pushed off from the tree and fought through his grogginess. Gingerly, he touched the wound on the back of his head, but it felt shallow. He’d have a knot there for several days, but that was better than being a wolf-man’s meal. Jerico joined Darius’s side, and together they looked at the corpse.

“Do you still think the villagers are liars?” Jerico asked.

“Of course, but not about this. Even liars tell the truth from time to time.”

“Such cynicism.”

Darius laughed. He shook the crusted remains of blood off his weapon and then sheathed it. With its fire extinguished, it seemed Jerico could see easier in the darkness.

“It’s merely truth, Jerico. I see the world as it is, you as how you want it to be. Doesn’t take a scholar to know which of us will be right more often.”

Jerico used his foot to roll the wolf-man onto its back. Its mouth hung open, and even dead, those rows of teeth gave him chills. He absently ran a hand along the deep grooves of his platemail.

“Did you hear what it told me?” he asked.

“I did. Who knows how many it meant. A pack could be five, or five-hundred. I suppose I should have left it alive long enough to question…”

Jerico pointed to the river. “We could cross and find out.”

Darius laughed.

“Into their territory? Are you mad? I’ve never considered you paladins of Ashhur the brightest of men, but I figured you would at least have more sense than that.”

Jerico shot Darius a wink.

“Ashhur calls the simple ones to do his work. We tend to accomplish more. Besides, if we go in the daylight, we could catch them sleeping. If they’re crossing the river to hunt, they mustn’t be too far.”

“They’ve killed only four. That isn’t a pack. That’s hardly anything. This was a lone hunter, nothing more. Now, will you help me bring it to town, or must I do everything myself?”

Sighing, Jerico grabbed one arm, Darius the other. Together they dragged it across the leaves, through the forest, and to the town of Durham, so the people might see they had nothing left to fear.

T he Citadel loomed before him, looking tall and proud in the twilight. As the sun continued to fall, an uneasy fear set over him. Spiderwebs of cracks stretched higher and higher throughout the Citadel’s foundation. Fire burst upon the grass around it. Bones fell from the sky. As a great roar shook the plains, he heard a terrible crack, and then-

Jerico’s eyes snapped open. His heart pounded in his chest. Despite the chill of autumn, his body was soaked with sweat.

Again? he wondered. What is it, Ashhur? What is it you need to tell me?

For the past week he’d had the same dream, and always it felt like it ended unfinished. Dread settled over him come the morning, and at least twice he’d thought to return to the Citadel to ensure everything was in order. But with Durham threatened by wolf-men sneaking out of the Vile Wedge and across the river to feed, he couldn’t dare leave his assigned post.

As his senses slowly returned, he realized what day it was and groaned. He stayed in a small room of Jeremy Hangfield, the town’s wealthiest occupant, the room freely given in exchange for protecting them from the various menaces of the wild. They were far from the great city of Mordeina and her guards, patrols, and roads. Here there were outlaws, bandits, and now, creatures of the Wedge. But fighting wasn’t his sole duty, though sometimes he wished it was. Instead of putting on his armor, he donned his only pair of clothes that weren’t bloodstained, a simple white tunic adorned with the golden mountain, symbol of his god. He clipped his mace to his belt but left his shield, feeling silly carrying it when not in armor.

His congregation was small, and they gathered in the town square. When he’d first come, nearly half the village had shown up, out of curiosity more than anything. As the days passed, his numbers had dwindled, now just a faithful twenty or so. Wishing he could be fighting wolf-men instead, Jerico preached best he could, often relying on songs to break the monotony. As he neared the end, he saw Darius watching him from the back of the crowd.

“Ashhur be with you all,” Jerico said, ending his final prayer. As the crowd dispersed, Darius remained behind, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a brown tunic with a black belt, the drab colors making his long blond hair stand out all the more. A smirk spread across his young face.

“Sometimes I wonder if Ashhur hopes to convert the lazy of Dezrel,” he said. “Men who would be happy for an hour’s sleep every third day, guilt free.”

The comment stung. Twice Jerico had caught someone drifting off beneath the shade of a tree during his sermons.

“I guess I could scream and holler as if the world were on fire,” Jerico said. “That just isn’t my style.”

Darius seemed unoffended. Jerico had witnessed the man’s services, always held the day after his. The dark paladin was a far more animated spectacle, speaking with a passion he could never hope to match. He’d cry for strength, denounce cowardly sacrifice, and demand obedience in the face of a chaotic world. “Order,” Darius would shout at the top of his lungs. “Bring this world Order!” Handsome, energetic, and passionate, his sermons gathered fifty to sixty men every time, a fact Darius never let Jerico forget.

“Your style should be what works,” Darius said, tossing Jerico a waterskin, for he knew how draining such a performance was. “Not what you feel like. Perhaps you should attend a few more of my sermons. You might learn something.”

Jerico drained half of it, then handed it back with a muttered thanks.

“How did Bobby take the news?” he asked, referring to the father and husband of those killed by the wolf-man.

“Come,” said Darius. “I’ll show you.”

Together they walked down the dirt path, out from the village center. Wood houses sprang up on either side of them, fairly large due to the abundance of nearby lumber. At the end of the path was a post marking the entrance to the village. Hanging from ropes tied to its wrists was the body of the wolf-man.

In daylight it looked less fearsome. Its fur had dried out, much of it caked with blood and dirt. Flies buzzed about it, and it stank something unholy. All of its teeth were gone, and along its chest were at least twenty punctures new to Jerico.

“You let him mutilate the corpse?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. He just hoped he might somehow be wrong.

“Do you know a better way to move on after the death of a loved one?” Darius asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Here is his beloved’s killer, and though it is dead, I still gave him a chance to exact his revenge. It accomplishes nothing, and after awhile, Bobby learned this as well. So I told him to take its teeth, and fashion a necklace so he might never forget.”

“Bobby is a gentle soul,” Jerico said, his stomach turning. He ran a hand through his red hair, his fingers gently touching the knot on the back of his head. It felt the size of his thumb. “He once paddled his daughter, then came to me to ask if it were right. Meanwhile, half this village wallops sense into their children at the slightest mistake. How could you let him do this?”

“Because he spoke to me of wanting to die,” Darius said, yanking Jerico closer. “Would you counsel him love and forgiveness for the beast that ate his family? Would you promise him a better life in the world he wants to kill himself to enter? I gave him a desire for vengeance, and through that, a desire to live. You would have him remember his loved ones. Instead, I have him remember their murderer, and as long as he thinks of it, he is not wallowing in sorrow for himself and his family.”

Darius let go of his tunic.

“Bobby’s organizing a group of men to go into the Wedge,” he said. “They want us to go with them.”

“Will you?”

The dark paladin shot him a wink.

“I gave him his desire for vengeance. Do you think I’d abandon him after that? Question is, will you come with us? I never am certain, given Ashhur’s rather womanly tendencies. You’d scout for more, yes, but will you come for revenge?”

Jerico glanced into town, trying to decide. Of course Ashhur frowned upon revenge, but still, the entire safety of Durham might depend on their success. Besides, if something went wrong, many lives would be in danger. Could he turn his back on them?

“I don’t like it,” Jerico said. “But perhaps it should be done.”

“They’re just beasts,” Darius said, slapping Jerico across the back. “Filthy, vicious beasts. We’ll put them down, just like any other rabid animal.”

Looking at the hulking form suspended by ropes, Jerico couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“Any other animal?” he muttered as Darius walked away. Before he could decide for certain, he trudged back to the village. The streets were barren, for with autumn speeding by, the men and women were harvesting every bit of nut, fruit, and grain they could find or grow. He realized Bobby had not been there for his sermon like he usually was, and this fact squirmed in his gut like a snake. Needing to talk to him, he found the man’s home, and sure enough, he was there instead of out in the fields with the others.

“Morning, Jerico,” Bobby said. He sat on his porch in a small chair, his shoulders stooped and his leathery skin pale. His eyes had a glazed, distant look to them. In his lap, he held a necklace of teeth.

“Missed you at the square,” Jerico said, leaning against the house. “Something the matter?”

“Sure is.”

“Care to talk about it?”

Bobby finally looked at him as his fingers worked over the sharp edges of the teeth.

“Darius said you’d try to talk me out of going,” he said.

“I’m only here to listen, friend.”

“He said you’d say that too, but it’d be a lie.”

Jerico rolled his eyes. “Lying’s not my style.”

Bobby grunted and looked away. He cut himself on one of the teeth, but if he felt it, he didn’t let it show. Faint smears of blood started to spread across the yellow and white.

“I heard her screaming,” he said. “I’d gone outside to piss, you know. That’s all. And then, as I’m coming back, I hear her screaming. Just Susie, not my little girls or my boy. Do you think that means they died quicker? Maybe in their sleep? It didn’t…it didn’t…”

Tears rolled down his face. Determined to remain true to his word, Jerico kept silent, letting the man say what he clearly needed to say.

“It didn’t even eat them, only my wife. Killed them for no reason, that fucking wolf. But Susie was alive when he was…eating. And it left me alive too, just looked at me and laughed. That damn thing laughed. I don’t know if the one you killed was the one that came here. I’ll never know. But I’ll kill every last one I can find and hope each one is that bastard. And I’ll laugh every time I kill one, Jerico.”

“I’m sorry,” Jerico said. “But this isn’t right, and you know it.”

Bobby looked up, and Jerico saw a rage there that frightened him.

“You think I care about what’s right? I’ve lived right my whole life, and look what it got me. Someone ought to do something, so I will. No one else needs to see what I saw, and there ain’t anything you can say to convince me otherwise.”

Jerico stepped back. He felt helpless, overwhelmed by the man’s grief. What could he tell him? That Ashhur worked in mysterious ways? That it was her time, her fate to have her belly shredded, her flesh ripped and swallowed while she was still screaming?

“I’ll pray for you, Bobby,” he said.

“Thanks, Jerico, but I don’t think it’ll do much good.”

He stood and carried his blood-stained necklace into his house. When he shut the door, Jerico stood there staring long after. A hundred thoughts swirled through his head, but one in particular struck him with such certainty he knew he couldn’t deny it.

He couldn’t let this happen again.

His armor and shield were waiting for him in his room. There was a reason he carried them with him, a reason every paladin dressed for war. This was one of them. Come dusk, he’d join the rest. Come the night, they’d venture into the Vile Wedge, the land of orcs and monsters.