The Contention (13 page)

“Enough Princess Sara,” the knight said.

Then it all made sense. The knight was training the princess to fight, probably with blunted weapons without sharpened edges, and the princess, most likely a spoiled brat, cared not for the knight’s well-being and so fought with ordinary blades. Mordal smiled to himself wickedly. The brat princess was about to get all the injury she would ever need. Unstrapping his gnomish Gatling bow from his back, Mordal slowly attached the hopper, already loaded with bolts. Unfortunately as the hopper snapped into place, the metal upon metal made an audible click at which both the princess and the large beast-like man in the field turned to see its origin.

Mordal was not concerned, though admittedly disappointed at making the sound. He was using his blessing, as well as hiding in the deepest shadows beside the large garrison building. Neither the beast man nor the princess could see him here. Taking his aim, Mordal quickly began to turn the crank on his weapon.

*****

Jonas froze as the hair upon the back of his neck began to rise. Instincts told him something was wrong, yet before he could even react, a steady rhythm of sounds erupted from the darkness beyond the garrison building. Thoomp, clank, thoomp, clank, thoomp, clank. The sound resounded over and over from the shadows in rapid succession. Unable to pierce the utter darkness of the night-time shadows, Jonas sniffed the air as Sara exhaled loudly, her eyes bulging within their sockets.

*****

Sara peered into the darkness beside the knights’ garrison, but even with her predatory, more-than-human vision, could discern nothing recognizable. Though she thought she could see movement, even when the sounds began she could make out no detail of what was within the shadows. Turning to face the origin of the sounds, Sara realized too late that they were under attack as more than a dozen missiles struck her chest and stomach in a fraction of a second with such force they drove the breath from her lungs and sent her staggering backwards.

Pain exploded from each of the wounds as Sara turned, revealing to the others upon the field what it was that had befallen them. Blood poured from each of the wounds, and as Sara turned she reached down and tugged the first of the bolts from her flesh and armor with an agonized scream of pain. Within an instant, everything in the castle complex changed as men who were beyond human acted upon instinct.

Chapter 7

Assassins Flight and a Saving Sacrifice

Mordal cranked the handle on his weapon as fast as he was able for a solid three seconds and watched as the barrage of missiles arced through the darkness to their intended target. Like death borne upon the wind, the hail of arrows smashed into the armored chest of the small woman. Each and every one of them penetrated her armor, burying themselves into her flesh as blood began to run down their shafts. Success. Mordal thought to add injury to insult, and turned his gaze upon the knight, but realized all too quickly that he had no time for games as escape became his number one priority. More than half a dozen knights rushed his location where before had only been one, and that was only the beginning of his troubles.

*****

Watching Sara turn and stagger, ripping arrow after arrow from her own flesh as blood pooled around her feet, Daniella hurried to Sara’s aid as Malik gave a silent prayer and shimmered for a moment. A fraction of a blink of an eye later, eight Maliks tore across the field towards the garrison as an eerie cry split the night air like a blade through flesh. The howl was one of both rage and pain, and it was the signal of the beginning of a night the city of Valdadore would never forget.

Before Jonas even completed his howl, the sound was echoed more than two hundred times from outside the castle walls. Like a tidal wave of claws and fur, the inhuman army that Seth had created sprang into action, pouring out into the streets of Valdadore from the Temple of Ishanya. Instantly Jonas picked up the scent of his enemy, and subliminally it was relayed to all the werewolves in the immense pack. Without so much as an order the beasts took to the streets, all of a single mind, all craving revenge and blood, all converging upon the castle. Jonas surged across the field, digging his claws into the soil and propelling himself at an unbelievable speed towards the shadows. Overtaking the many copies of Malik, as if they stood still, Jonas landed in the shadow of the garrison, growling and snarling, his canine fangs flashing, but it was all for naught. Looking around the shadows no enemy presented itself, yet there was no escape from here, except an open expanse of ground between the garrison and the nearest gate that exited into the city. Luckily for Jonas, he had senses stronger than that of vision, and sniffing the air he raised his nose upwards to better catch the scent. Not only did he do so, but he also witnessed a figure in black disappearing over the top of the castle wall, more than a dozen stories above him. Jonas could not scale the wall, even with his great strength and claws. The foe was an expert, and probably blessed by a god to accomplish such a feat. Jonas shared the information with the pack as the many Maliks rushed to join him.

“Where is he?” all of the Malik copies said at once.

Jonas simply pointed over the wall, before turning towards the gate and launching himself forward upon all fours again. He may have fallen behind, but he would still take up the chase.

*****

Seth had mastered altering the armor his troops needed a few hours before pandemonium erupted in the temple, but it was still a lengthy process. In fact, he had just completed the last set of his men’s armor when the troops within the room with him bared their teeth, growling, and then let loose a mournful howl unlike anything Seth had ever heard before. Both of the beasts in the chamber turned, though only one rushed off without warning. The other, looking back over his shoulder, said something to Seth before following his comrade, though the only words Seth clearly heard were ‘Sara’, ‘assassin’, and ‘dying’. Before Seth could even comprehend the words something within him snapped as he unleashed the power he contained within himself. Like a great wave of light and wind, a surge of power erupted from Seth, and with a boom that shook the entire temple, Seth vanished.

*****

Borrik was sleeping peacefully when Jonas screamed at him through their subconscious link. It was not a voice that was communicated, as that was not how the pack worked. Nor was it directed at Borrik singularly, as all communications within the pack were shared by all near enough to be contacted. Instead it was an image with a thought or emotion attached to it. The image that entered Borrik’s mind, and that ripped him from his bed, was an image of Sara with more than a dozen arrows protruding from her body and blood pouring from her like water from a broken bucket. Borrik recognized the location of the image immediately. His heart pounding in his chest, Borrik wrenched the door to his chamber from its hinges as he sprang into the temple proper, where he, and all of his kind, poured into the streets like a flood of death seeking its prey. The hunt was on.

Pouring into the streets the werewolves moved like an unstoppable force of nature. They surged through the street, along the walls of the houses, even up the buildings to leap from roof to roof. As they ran they spread out, and within minutes bloodthirsty feral beasts coursed along every available surface of the city, sniffing the air hungrily for their target. Borrik both watched and felt the men and women of his pack take to the streets and rooftops of Valdadore. Images and thoughts from all directions assailed him of citizens screaming and running from the vicious beasts although none of these was in any real danger, as the pack hunted only one man. His was the scent of a tavern. Stale ale, smoke, horses and sweat, yet there was something strange about him too. Mixed with these smells was the scent of oil and metal, and also something Borrik did not recognize. Upon this man was a scent that was unfamiliar and which should have made him quite easy to track, yet try as they might, no matter how strong the scent, the werewolves could not locate the assassin.

Time and again a member of the pack would catch a glimpse of him, before once again he vanished, seemingly into thin air. For nearly an hour the pack raced like a wave across the city covering streets and rooftops in an attempt to run their prey to ground. Then, as if the man had used magic to disappear, the trail of his scent ended. The wave of werewolves now came from all directions, all converging on this one location, as word of the trail’s end spread instantaneously. As if they were all of one mind, all the feral men turned and began spreading out like wildfire, looking to pick up the scent once again. All of the troops relied upon their instincts. All but one at least, as the werewolves spread throughout the city. Borrik ignored both instincts and his nose. Instead, he followed his gut. Clamoring to the rooftops to take a more direct route, Borrik scratched and clawed his way up the side of the nearest building. Reaching the summit, he turned and began bounding from one roof to the next.

*****

Sara watched as the blood spilled from her many wounds. One by one she wrenched the bolts free of her flesh and blood covered her hands, making them slick. It was a lose, lose or lose situation. Removing each bolt sent waves of mind-numbing pain through her body which threatened to leave her unconscious, but they had to be removed. Pulling each bolt out opened a new hole in her body for blood to spew out of, but her body could not properly heal with them in the way. The damned healer had already prayed twice, but failing in some way to heal the princess, was now pacing nearby and shaking her head. Sara’s vision blurred as she screamed out again, ripping another bolt from her flesh. She nearly had them all removed, even though Jonas and Malik had only taken up the chase of the assassin a few seconds ago. Sara knew she could recover from this, but the blood flowed too freely from her. Not knowing what else to do, she tried with her hands to seal as many wounds as she was able in a feeble attempt to hold the blood in.

Still the blood seeped from between her fingers, and from wounds she was unable to cover, and still the healer paced speaking quietly to herself. Sara’s vision faded again, but this time she felt something inside her stir as if it moved of its own accord. One wound stopped spewing blood. She felt nauseous. The world around her seemed to blur, and then a whoosh of air blasted Sara full in the face. Before Sara stood a man all in black, though her failing vision obscured any other detail. This was how the assassin had escaped, and now he had returned to finish the deed.

Sara let her head loll back, not even pretending to conceal the fact she was near to losing consciousness. Her arms felt increasingly weak, so she let them fall from her wounds, down to her sides. The assassin did not yet move. Sara grasped the blades in her belt, and still kneeling with her feet beneath her, pulled the blades forth at the same time that she gave the command her husband had taught her a few hours before.

“Jump!” Sara yelled as best as she was able.

With unimaginable force, Sara’s enchanted boots propelled her both forward and upward into the assassin where she drove the blades into his chest. The power of his life rushed through the blades into Sara like a raging river. With so much power, Sara’s injuries healed almost instantly, before she or her attacker even fell back to the ground. Sara landed atop him, effectively pinning him to the ground. Sara’s heart stopped as her fading vision was restored and she witnessed, for the first time, the face of the man beneath her.

*****

Seth felt the power surge through him and felt it carry him away, as if for an instant he had become one with the power. As if he had become insubstantial. As if for only a moment, he was the power. Though no matter how determined he was, nor how frightened, Seth knew, even as he re-contained the power, that it had happened again. The world around him felt different. Even with his eyes closed he knew that here it was darker, cooler and more damp. In the pit of his stomach Seth feared he would have to scale his way back out of the same godforsaken room he and Sara had been imprisoned in just mere weeks ago, and make the trek on foot once again back to Valdadore. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Seth began to open his eyes when he heard a familiar, yet different, voice as something hard slammed into his chest driving him up into the air, knocking the wind from his lungs.

The impact had been so hard, Seth had not even realized for a moment that two blades had been shoved through his ribcage. In fact, he did not realize it until he hit the ground with someone atop him. Still unable to breathe, Seth forced his eyes open after hitting the ground to find Sara on top of him, pinning him to the ground with both her weight, and her blades that went in his chest and out of his back into the soil below him. Unable to breathe since both of his lungs had collapsed, Seth lay upon the ground staring up at the woman he loved more than anything. In return, Sara looked at him as if in a daze for a moment, then as her eyes slowly refocused, the pupils swelling in size, Sara’s mouth fell open in a silent scream of anguish as her body slumped in defeat. Seth attempted to speak, though nothing but blood left his lips, pouring from both corners of his mouth.

*****

For the life of him, Mordal could not explain where the rest of the Knights of Valdadore had come from, though it mattered little now as he raced across the rooftops of the castle city. The mission had gone flawlessly. Find a target, kill the target, flee away from castle, and lose pursuit in the city. Everything was going according to plan. For the third time Mordal stopped upon the edge of a roof watching the street below. Just as had happened each time before, the beast man that had been in the sparring field came lunging into sight. They made eye contact, but before the hairy man could get too close, Mordal changed directions and raced off across the rooftops, concentrating upon the mental map he had made of the city. This job was entirely too easy, Mordal thought, as he again sprang from one rooftop to another before sprinting a short distance and lunging again. He was about to stop, to ensure the creature pursuing him was still on the trail, when he witnessed another of the beast men leaping from roof to roof several blocks away, headed straight towards him. Turning to resume his retreat, he saw yet another of the wolfmen.