It was nearing sunset when the scouts Gambet had sent into the moors returned. Kass, the
hoary haired old man that Gambet put in charge of the excursion, approached the Captain with his lips pressed together tight and a sour look in his eye. He was a man of small stature and boasted a beard so long he had to tuck it into his jerkin to keep it from tangling into his
bowstring.
“Find anything, Kass?” Captain Owen asked, closing the book he had been reading.
“Yes, Captain, quite a lot actually,” the old tracker replied. “I managed to pick up their trail
almost immediately and tracked it all the way to their den in some rocks not half a league
southwest.”
“Well done!” Captain Owen stood and shook Kass’ hand. “Did you see any wolves?”
Kass shook his head. “Naught but their tracks. Massive prints too, Captain. And there
were…uhh…well…”
“Go on, Kass.”
“Well, there were human footprints, sir. Recent ones, and barefoot too.”
Captain Owen looked Kass in the eye; saw the trepidation that lay just below the surface.
He knows. “Wolfmen.”
“I think so, sir.”
“Very well. You and the rest of the scouts find a fire and something to eat. You did good
work today.”
Owen crossed his arms before him and looked past Denning’s palisade out onto the endless
stretch of moors. He was beginning to believe that there may be some truth to the possibility of these monstrous hybrids of wolf and man. At the very least it would not hurt to make a few preparations in case the legend turned out to be reality. He reached into his pack and pulled out a woefully light coin purse. I hope this is enough.
“Gambet. I got something for you,” Captain Owen said, handing the Sergeant an only
slightly battered crossbow.
Gambet whistled and ran a finger along the bowstring. “Not a bad find, Captain.”
“I figure you’ve got the most experience shooting crossbows,” the Captain handed him a
dozen quarrels. “Better make every shot count.”
“I will, sir. Count on it.”
“Are we ready to march?”
“Yessir. I’ve got the men split into ten groups of ten like you requested.”
“Good. I want you to take five of the groups and wait in the fields. I’ve told the shepherds
to keep all the sheep together so we can lure the wolves to us. I should be in place at the den by the time you drive them back.”
“Understood. Good luck out there, Captain.” Gambet held out his hand.
Captain Owen accepted the gesture with a smile. “You too, Sergeant.”
The company departed Denning just as the sun was settling itself behind the horizon. Banks
of fog quickly formed in the low-lying fields, swirling and writhing like uncaged spirits, and the scent of mud and livestock filled the chilly air. The company parted ways at a crossroads with Gambet taking his half of the men west into the pastures and Captain Owen continuing south up into the moors and then hooking eastward to avoid detection. The moors were a lonesome place, endless and foreboding. Only the occasional formation of rocks, meandering creek, or copse of shrubs broke up the undulating hills. A full moon lit their path bathing the shrubs and rocks with its argent glow. Kass led the way through the heather and cotton grass, an arrow nocked and ready.
“Do you hear that?” Captain Owen asked, turning to look behind them. “That isn’t the wind, is it?”
“No, sir,” Kass answered. “Those are wolves if I’ve ever heard ‘em. They must have run
into Sergeant Gambet.”
“How many does it sound like?”
“More than a few, sir.”
The Captain ordered the company to hasten their pace and soon the rocky outcrop that
served as the wolves’ den appeared on the other side of a shallow valley. In the light of the
moon, the rocks seemed to glisten as if slick from rain. Or blood, Captain Owen thought. The company looped around the rear of the den to create a semicircle covering the southern and eastern sides. After closing in close enough to see the bleached bones that lay at the mouth of the cave, Captain Owens ordered a halt. The men found what cover they could among the shrubs and boulders and began the long wait.
His mind free to wander in the quiet and dark, Captain Owen began to feel the rat of
trepidation gnawing at his bowels. He had always felt such fears before a battle, but here, in
foreign lands and against unknown foes, it was magnified. His heart slammed against his chest as if it were a beast attempting to tear itself free. He tightened his grip on his sword, forced his arm to stop its quivering. Every instinct told him to run. If it were not for a small voice in the back of his mind, a whisper of courage in the sea of fear, Owen would have fled into the night. He took this spark of courage and fanned it, melting the icy grasp of paranoia. He would not run. He could not run; not if he wanted to take back what was his; to take back his lands and titles that were so treacherously stolen. With his goals of vengeance and reclamation at the forefront of his mind, Captain Owen steeled himself for the battle to come.
A bone chilling howl sounded from one hill over, and the shadowy forms of loping
creatures were visible along the moonlit ridges. Peering into the darkness, Owen could just make out the gray outlines of his men. “Steady, boys,” he said beneath his breath. “Wait until my command.”
He could hear paws tearing through heather; smell the wet fur. It would not be much
longer. Captain Owen took a deep breath and watched the wolves pass not a stone’s throw off. There had to have been half a hundred of the beasts and following not far behind them lumbered a pair of the strangest creatures the Captain had ever seen. They were canine, that could not be argued, but there was also something disturbingly human about them, as if they had thrown off their humanity long ago in favor of a more savage guise. The monsters moved with a queer gait, sometimes on their hind legs and other times on all fours. They were easily thrice the size of their smaller pack mates. Their eyes, an uncomfortable amalgam of man and animal, burned a wicked orange in the darkness.
“Do we really gotta do fight ‘em, sir?” asked one of the men, his spear quaking in his grasp.
Captain Owen glanced over at the young man. “What’s your name, son?”
“Walken.”
“We will fight them, Walken, and we will win,” Captain Owen answered, raising his sword
above his head. He could not blame the man for his fear. The foes they were about to face were unnatural; evil.
“They ain’t seen us yet. We can just slip away, sir.”
“But what of our reputation?”
Walken looked at the Captain for a moment, his mind no doubt attempting to wrap itself
around such a concept. “What’s our reputation worth if we’re dead?”
Captain Owen smiled. “Everything.”
Owen returned his focus to the enemy before him and sucked in a lungful of air before
bellowing the order to charge. The rest of the company took up the cry, lit their torches, and
surged forth from their concealment. The wolves, seemingly unfazed by the ambush, wheeled to the left and met the company head on. The void in the night was filled with the sound of gnashing teeth, scraping steel, and howls and cries of pain. The wolves showed held nothing back, lunging straight onto spears to shatter them and make way for their brothers.
Captain Owen was brought to the ground almost immediately by one of the beasts, and had
he not impaled the assailant with his blade on the way down his throat surely would have been ripped open. The wolf’s lifeless jowls came to rest on his face, and he inhaled its warm, fetid, final breath. Shoving his felled foe off him, Owen regained his feet only to be faced down by one of the towering and grotesque wolfmen.
“Come!” the Captain shouted his challenge and gripped his longsword in both hands.
“Come, wolfman! Have a taste!”
The wolfman lowered its head and charged. Captain Owen advanced to meet abomination.
The wolfman swung a massive arm with strength enough to remove Owen’s head, but the
Captain was quick and the beast only managed to scrape his helm with its vicious claws. With his foe’s guard down, Owen slashed upwards with his blade cutting fur and flesh from groin to neck. Such a blow would have been the end for any wolf or man, but a wolfman was greater than the sum of its parts. The monster roared and flailed its arms in a frenetic dance of pain. Owen took the full force of one of the wild swings in his chest and was laid flat. He struggled to catch the breath that had been so violently expelled from his lungs. Unfortunately for Owen, even with dark blood pouring from its grievous wound, the wretched animal stood over him with claws poised to strike. Captain Owen groped in the darkness for his blade, begging all the while for the Father’s protection and the Lady’s love. The Gods must have heard his prayers, for just as the wolfman moved in for the kill a quarrel took it in the throat. The wolfman staggered, stood dumb for the beat of a heart, and then collapsed forward onto the Captain.
“Damn it all to hell,” Captain Owen groaned, summoning all the strength he could muster
to free himself. It was no use. In his position he could not find the leverage to hoist the carcass.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” the familiar voice of Gambet said from somewhere in the night.
“I’ll have this damned thing off of you in no time.”
“Gambet, Gods bless you!”
Between the both of them, Gambet and Owen managed to roll the massive corpse aside.
Gambet helped the Captain to his feet. “Are you hurt?”
Captain Owen shook his head. “Where is the second wolfman?”
“Over there,” Gambet said, pointing at a dark lump bristling with a dozen spears. “Looks
like the rest of the pack is calling it a night.”
The Captain heaved a contented sigh and watched the surviving wolves turn tail and
disappear into the hills. He had only a moment’s reprieve before the moans of the wounded and dying grabbed his attention.
“Kass!” Captained Owen shouted, sheathing his sword and approaching the nearest
casualty. “Kass, where the hell are you?”
“Here, sir!” the tracker called back.
“Race back to Denning and fetch some wagons for the wounded. If you can find healers,
I’ll make you a sergeant!”
“Right away, Captain.”
“And here I thought all the hard work was done,” said Gambet, cutting a strip from his
jerkin to serve as a bandage.
“Night’s only half over, Gambet,” said Captain Owen. “Let’s get to it.”
TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR THE GRAND FINALE INSTALLMENT OF....
The Price of Reputation
Thank you for the contribution, J.M.! You can follow this author on instagram @jmturner.author
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