The Wolves of Gryning: Chapter 29
Chapter 29: The Assault
A fire was burning in the Trade Quarter. Plumes of smoke rose, billowing like clouds in the sky. Sections of the dock were completely engulfed in flames, while homes and storefronts crackled and roared. Beasts caught in between blazes jumped into the water, if they could reach it. They were the lucky few, and swam to safety. The other beasts ran screaming from the army that had emerged from the waves, swords and spears swinging, flesh tearing, blood spilling. It was turning into a massacre.
By ashes, Dhaka thought, What are they?
He shrank into the shadows of a back alley. The carnage was enacted at the hands of monstrous beasts, the army composed of creatures that appeared to already be dead. Those that were still intact were rotten, flesh and fur missing in patches. He saw wolves and foxes and bats, and countless other beasts whose species were impossible to determine. Some of them had been dead for years and were nothing more than bones. He didn't know how they were standing, how they were held together. It could only have been sorcery.
I thought sorcery was gone from the world. Dhaka edged deeper into the alley, watching the vile army force its way up the street. He had to get away from here, had to get back to Valdigt and the others. I've got to warn them, got to get them away from here. Flame guide me, show me the way!
He emerged in an empty street that the army had not yet reached. A troop of Brand's soldiers was jogging down the cobblestone in step, headed towards the chaos. Dhaka counted maybe fifty of them, the street just wide enough for four of them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. A tall doe stood just behind the first row of soldiers, wearing heavier armor than the rest, a silver helmet wrapping around her brow and down to her neck. Dhaka assumed she was the commander of the troop. She carried herself with poise and wielded a pointed sword as long as she was tall.
Just as the troop reached the end of the street, the army of deadbeasts rounded the corner, and the soldiers halted in surprise. Their commander raised her hand and barked an order:
"Hold formation!"
The dead continued to surge forward. They came closer and closer to the line of soldiers, who held their weapons uncertainly. One of the deadbeasts, a bat, lunged forward. It still had scraps of skin hanging on the bones of its wings, jutting out behind it. Its jaw opened but no sound came out, and it swung a sword at one of the deer.
A clash of steel rang out as the soldier deflected the blow. He turned his opponent's weapon aside then spun and hacked its neck open. The bat fell to the floor, but was writhing and trying to stand again.
It's still not dead, Dhaka thought, watching from the shadows. Flame help us, they can't die!
The soldier noticed and plunged his sword again into the bat's body, but it only continued to writhe. More of the deadbeasts inched forward, weapons out, and they began to lock blades with the the deer. Dhaka heard a faint twang, almost imperceptible over the noise of the fighting, and saw an arrow strike the soldier who was still trying to dispatch the bat on the ground. The arrow took him in the back of the head. He crumpled immediately.
"Archers!" somebeast shouted. "From behind!"
Dhaka could see from his vantage point that the soldiers were surrounded. The deadbeast army continued to push forward on one end of the street, while on the other a group of deadbeasts had clambered to the rooftops with bows. They began to take aim, loosing a volley of arrows and striking two more of the soldiers.
"Fall back!" the commander called, "Everybeast, retreat!"
The archers took three more of them as they beat a hasty retreat, the commander waving her sword in the air to rally them behind her.
"Let's get shields in front!" she shouted, and a line of soldiers with tall shields quickly moved to the front of the ranks. The arrows slammed uselessly against the metal, and a sigh went up from the deadbeasts. Dhaka shivered to hear them. He didn't know they were capable of noise, but the sigh sounded like defeat, or dejection.
"Blessed moon," the commander said, eyeing the deadbeasts. "What's happening?"
The bodies of the fallen deer had begun twitching, and with loud cracking noises they twisted and bent and eventually stood. Their eyes were empty, their jaws slack, but they raised their weapons and turned against the soldiers, marching with the deadbeasts.
The horror of it struck everybeast present. Several of the shield-bearers lowered their defenses for a moment, caught by surprise. In the moment's opening, an arrow flew and struck the commander in the eye. A ribbon of blood trailed behind her as she fell dead to the ground.
By the gods, Dhaka thought. I've got to get out of here.
The wolf drew back into the alley and ran towards the flaming street from whence he'd come. Behind him, a tall form rose from the shadows and followed.
Vacka prowled the streets, angry and clutching Morgara. He swung the fiery blade at anybeast that dared stand in his way. Several of them had rushed him, but few had any real weapons. Fishing hooks and clubs were easy to turn aside, but Morgara was not. Vacka didn't enjoy killing, but they forced his hand. He took the life of victim after victim, stalking forward into the chaos.
Fools. Why don't they flee?
It didn't matter to him. Any deadbeast became fodder for his army, and the more he killed the bigger his forces would grow. Just then he felt a malign presence beside him, and he turned towards it. The immortal.
"Rheuhl," he said. "I hope you've brought good news."
"Mmm, indeed. The beast you seek is here."
"The girl? Good," he stretched his fingers on Morgara's hilt, uncurling them and tightening his grip. This was one victim he would relish killing.
"Not the girl."
"Not--" Vacka stopped. He lowered his sword arm. "Not the girl?"
"The other. The one who you seek."
"The killer?" Vacka remembered the memory Rheuhl had forced into his head. He saw the face of his mother's killer, so similar to the face of that girl he'd met. She was supposed to be here too, wasn't she? That was the beast Rheuhl had promised to him.
"I thought he wasn't here," Vacka said. "I thought he was gone. Dead, even."
"Not dead, not dead, but not the same. He's a different beast."
"I don't care. I don't want to hear it. I just want to kill him."
Vacka looked up at the sky, black with smoke, and he felt something stir in his chest. Is this what it means to be happy? It felt good. He hadn't been happy about anything in ages, the feeling always fleeting. He soaked in that feeling now, sweet like honey. Today was going to be a good day. A very good day indeed.
In her dreams, Valdigt heard screaming. She could not remember, after waking, where she had been in that unconscious world. All she remembered was the cool touch of flowers on her back, and the screaming. The screaming had edged into her mind by degrees, so subtly that it didn't register till she smelled the smoke.
She rose up, waking, sniffing the acrid smoke stench, her mind not yet registering the real world. Then she took it all in. The cold air of the hammock, the world far below. The light of a city on fire against the purple of a dying sun. The smoke wafted past them, heavy clouds obscuring the sky behind the ship. The screaming was growing in volume.
Thess woke too, bit by bit, and when she finally opened her eyes she bolted up. She was so quick the hammock nearly tipped. There was a smell of cooking flesh entering the air, a smell that they had both smelled recently. Thess clutched the scar tissue where her hand had been, her head dizzy.
"Gods, what is that?" she recoiled in disgust.
"Trouble," Valdigt grumbled. She climbed out of the hammock towards the mast. "You should stay here. Could be dangerous."
"Ashes, what do I look like? I'm comin' too!"
"You're not as strong as you once were. You could get hurt, or get us both hurt. You'd better stay."
"Think I'm that weak, eh? I'm stronger'n all that, I am! Wait for me. I'll come."
"I can't."
"It won't be long. Just a little longer than usual. I can't climb as quickly, but I can make it down alone."
"I can't wait. If you can't climb down at my speed, you're not fit enough to come. I can't let you risk yourself like this. I won't allow it."
"Carry me then. Please. I can help -- I can! -- and I need to be down there with you. Whatever happens."
Valdigt was troubled. She didn't want to risk the life of the girl, but her passion was apparent. She was certain even if she left, Thess would climb down and try to follow her. If she didn't wait, Thess would wander the streets alone to catch up with her. She couldn't let that happen either. Reluctantly. She helped the otter out onto the mast, supporting the girl on a limb. Then Valdigt climbed down, and got in place so Thess could clamber onto her back. Though Valdigt was a strong wolf, the weight of another beast was a heavy burden to shoulder. She made the climb successfully but was wearied by the task. When at last they'd reached steady ground, she sagged against the ship's rail and sighed, for she knew her twask was not yet over.
Why do I insist on rushing into danger? What is it I want to prove? Am I trying to help, or am I just trying too hard to be a hero? She couldn't answer that for herself, couldn't find a reason for her feelings. Nor could she know if it was too late to change. Either way, the course of her heart was too strong, and she could no more ignore her instinct than she could ignore the will to breathe.
"Come, follow," Valdigt said, hand out to Thess. She had retrieved a sword and shouldered the blade now, the otter retrieving a small weapon of her own.
True to herself, Valdigt ventured out into the troubled heart of chaos, her hero's heart heavy with the need to help.
She ran with the otter in tow through the ruined Trade Quarter. Buildings were caved in, charred, flames licking their crumbling foundations. Beasts lay dead and dying in the street, beasts of all kinds murdered without discrimination. Along the streets they passed piles of fallen bones, too far decayed to belong to any of the freshly killed. Valdigt grimaced.
What have we stumbled into?
The she-wolf and otter made their way along the streets chasing the sounds of fighting, eventually entering the dueling arena. Inside the dome, the echoing din of the assault had waned. The fighting was moving elsewhere into the city -- or perhaps it had stopped completely. Valdigt looked at the scene before he and thought maybe she'd found why the fighting seemed to have stopped.
There was a small army of living deadbeasts covering a wide swath of the arena's floor. Across from them, she saw a black wolf dressed all in white. His hands were poised, a blade balanced. But why is he so familiar? She wracked her mind for memories and bumped right into the one she was looking for. A conversation with a wolf, somewhere in the hills. She'd thought he was a little strange, but otherwise innocent. Was it possible that he was a beast of significant power? She thought about the sorcerer who had wreaked destruction across the kingdoms and realized she must be looking at that same bast.
Vacka.
Between the sorcerer and the army, she saw a figure that she recognized. The beast who called himself Dhaka, holding a spear and pivoting between his feet, trying to keep both foes at bay. If he faced the army to fight them, he'd expose his back to Vacka. And if he faced the sorcerer...
Valdigt didn't think.
She ran.
"Where d'ya think you're goin'?" Thess whooped, following the girl. "Get away from them!"
Despite her words, the otter took her place beside Valdigt, wedged between the army and the sorcerer.
"Can you hold him back?" Valdigt called to Dhaka over her shoulder. She kept her blade raised to hold back any of the deadbeasts who might venture too close. Their hollow faces whistled with the wind.
"I can try, if you can hold all those things back," Dhaka said. Ashes, he sounded tired.
"Aye," Thess answered, "Think we can hold our own."
It was the sorcerer who spoke up next:
"Why even bother?"
Valdigt risked a glance backwards, saw him lower his arms. The deadbeasts in front of her had not made any more advances, but they were precariously close. She returned her gaze to them just as quickly as she'd glanced. Dhaka seemed to be struggling with what Vacka had just said.
"My life is not the best one, no, but it is a life worth living," Dhaka ground his feet deeper into the dirt, his grip tightening. "My mistakes have been my own, and belong only to me. But my successes have been thanks to the help of others, and have given worth to more than just myself. I would not give that all up so easily."
"I don't care how many beasts I have to kill," Vacka said. "I will kill you."
Dhaka grunted in surprise, lowering his spear.
"Me? All this destruction, all this bloodshed, to kill me?"
"What did you think, you were just another casualty in some great war? No, I came here with your life in my sights. Don't look surprised, you bastard. You've committed enough evil in your miserable life not to question this."
"You may be right," Dhaka said, "I've been expecting some sort of grievance."
"What?" Valdigt turned, army be damned, facing Dhaka. "Father, no."
"Don't worry about me, child. I am your father no longer, but he is still with you, now and always. As for me, I've long been expecting this. My peace has been made and I do not fear death. I'm prepared to accept this, if it means the end of suffering for other beasts. Every sin must at some point be atoned. Do not hate me, but do not deny me this chance at redemption!"
He cast his spear into the dust.
"No!" Valdigt reached out, but Vacka was quicker. He dashed forward, hardly even seeming to run, and then his sword was through the wolf's body, through the beast both Dhaka and Jethel, splitting his back. Valdigt stared in horror at the blade as it protruded, and she knew its name in her own head as soon as she saw it.
Morgara. The holy blade.
No sooner had she realized this then it changed into a pure flame, dripping and dribbling molten fury; Vacka withdrew the blade. Dhaka grunted once more, and fell bleeding to his knees. The sorcerer raised his blade, drew it to strike again, and Valdigt's world slowed down.
She could feel everything. In a moment, a heartbeat, a lungful of breath, it was a moment of eternity. She saw the grief on Dhaka's face; the rage on Vacka's; the worry on the face of Thess, standing aside with her sword in her one remaining hand; the clicking teeth in the skulls of the deadbeasts; the sigh of wind that came passing through the world. The sorcerer's hands tensed, Morgara flashed, Dhaka's last thoughts were cut short -- whatever they may have been -- as his body fell to the floor. A fraction of a second later, the head fell into the dirt, rolled to Valdigt's feet.
The world came spinning back into normal speed.
"You..." she took her sword into her hands, made ready to lunge at the sorcerer.
"Val!" screamed Thess, "Look out!"
Neither the otter nor the wolf had time to react, to fend off the deadbeasts as they swarmed forward. They took the girls by the arms, batting the weapons out of their hands, then held them back. Vacka approached them, speaking directly to the she-wolf who's father he'd just killed.
"Curious passion," he said. "Towards an evil beast. You do know he was evil, don't you? Who am I kidding, you're his daughter. Of course you know how evil he was. You probably endured your fair share of it yourself, didn't you? It's okay. I suffered at the hands of evil beasts as well. One of them was my old master, the last sorcerer before me. Another of those beasts was the very wolf who lies dead before us. Surely you understand why I had to do what I did."
Valdigt spat at his feet.
"I hope you rot," she growled.
"Another curious display of passion. You know in some places it's actually considered sacred to spit? Water is a lifeblood for all living creatures. And curiously enough, water is just as much an enemy of Flame as Shadow. Perhaps moreso. How can that be, if we need water to survive? How can it be the enemy of Flame? Shadow can only co-exist with Flame, but it cannot extinguish it. Water can, however, yet we do not say that water is evil. We do not call it our enemy. In fact we cannot live without it."
"Flame take you, Shadow devour you -- Ashes, man! You're mad. Mad beyond redemption."
"Not mad. Not mad, but... You're right. Maybe beyond redemption, if anyone of us were ever able to be redeemed. Simply put, I'm not like you anymore. I'm not like any mortal beast. Nor am I immortal, though I'm closer to it than you may imagine. When last we spoke I was but a scared and timid creature, acting rashly in hope of restoring something I'd lost. What I lost cannot be regained; that task has since been mourned and abandoned. I cannot stay upset forever, for in my search I discovered something far more powerful. I have transcended that old world of beasts... To put it bluntly, I have become a god. I do not interact with the world in the same way as before. I have power now. And with my power I have a newfound appreciation for vengeance. The beast you called your father was a perpetrator of great evil against me, against my kind, against my family. I have meted out just punishment.
"I understand that his actions were not entirely his own, though he still bore the weight of their consequences. No, I know that he was acting under the orders of another. But he could just as easily have ignored his king's orders. He didn't. That makes him just as guilty. And who was it that helped that king take power in the first place? Your father was present every step of the way. This wolf was evil to his core. His ending is... fitting."
"You're a monster," Valdigt said.
"After all that...? There's no getting through to common beasts, is there? Your previous king, the one they called Molokhn, was a great source of my sorrow as well. But he is gone, killed and replaced by his own son, the one they call Besegrare. Believe it or not he's complicit as well. He stood by and watched while his father killed his own people. Besegrare has more than earned the punishment coming his way. And to make things worse, he stole from me the joy of killing Molokhn myself. Believe me when I tell you that any beast of Gryning who stands in my way shall face my judgment. They will become part of the sacrifice, lives for the cost. And you, wolf of Gryning, daughter of Jethel, will be the one left remaining to bear witness, to bear the burden of suffering. From the loins of evil you were spawned, and evil runs in your blood. But I control destiny now. I will allow no such evil to go unpunished. Justice will be terrible, but it is unavoidable. You cannot defy it any longer."
When he'd finished speaking, he vanished. A puff of black smoke, and the sorcerer-turned-god was gone.The bodies of the deadbeasts broke apart and fell to the floor, releasing Thess and Valdigt. The bones began sinking into the ground. Then the two girls got to their feet, rubbing bruised ribs and sides, taking stock of the fallen innocents around them. Around them the sounds of fighting had stopped, but the fire still roared, and a chorus of sobs rose into the night.
The sorcerer and his army had vanished almost as suddenly as they'd arrived. It was still too early to tell just how much damage had been done, how many bystanders had been killed... But it had been many. This was no minor tragedy, but a full-scale disaster.
Rhethah did not relish being the one who had to break this news to the queen. Silva was unlikely to publically lash out, but the queen had it in her to ruin her somewhere else, like her day to day life. If the queen was really upset, she could see to it that Rethah never lived a day in comfort again, and lost all her rank. And of course there was the possibility that Silva would barely react at all. It was nearly impossible to tell which would happen until some time after. Rhethah prided herself on her ability to read Silva's mood -- perhaps why she'd been around for as long as she had -- and when she told the queen about what had happened, she read quiet anger. The peculiar difficulty of this situation was knowing if Rhethah would be given any of the blame for what happened.
There was an unknown element, however. Rhethah glanced over at the wolf who had shouldered her way past the guards to approach them. Silva had recognized that beast and told the guards to stand down. The she-wolf, Valdigt of Gryning, furious about something. But what?
Garruk had told her that Valdigt had come to Brand as a herald, announcing the attack before its arrival.
"That's nonsense," Rhethah had replied.
"Nonsense?" the commander had answered. "Do you call hundreds of deadbeasts nonsense? The whole blessed Trade Quarter is on fire, and you call it nonsense. Hmmph!"
Herald, omen, whatever she was, Valdigt was angry.
She walked right up to Silva and pointed directly at her.
"Where were your soldiers?" Valdigt demanded.
"Is this how you talk to a queen?" Silva pushed Valdigt's finger down and away. "Be civil!"
"Innocent beasts are dead. The time for civility is over."
"Really, you must think you're something special! My city's been assaulted, and by one of your own -- a wolf! I was just speaking to the commander of my army," Silva threw a glance at a big armored buck to her side, "And he says he has reason to believe you're involved. Don't think I've forgotten you, either. I remember you coming to me before. It seems to me you knew all about this. Tell me why I shouldn't have you killed right now?"
"You think I'm in on this? Fire and flame, I came here to warn you! You're the one who didn't do anything about it. It's not in my power to stop an army like that, wolf or not. The only thing I could do was come here and tell you what you were up against."
"You didn't tell me what we were up against. Deadbeasts come to life? Where was that blessed information when we needed it?"
"Here I thought you were well-informed about current events, prepared for the inevitability of an attack. Isn't that what you told me?"
"Watch your tongue," the commander had stepped forward, putting himself between Valdigt and Silva. The queen pulled him away and pushed him back to the side.
"Calm down, Garruk. The girl is right. I did say that."
"But-"
"Stand down. I can handle this."
Silva crossed her arms, jewelry jangling on her wrists and the tiny nubs of her horns.
"Well, wolf," she spat, "You're right. Maybe I underestimated the enemy. Maybe I overestimated our own ability to predict an attack. That doesn't mean you're exempt from any blame, even if you did warn us. This is a serious assault on the people of Brand, perpetrated by the wolves. Why should I not launch an attack against Gryning?"
"You really want to start a war? You would not be fighting the wolves alone, but the foxes, and countless other refugees. In the wake of these attacks Gryning has opened its doors to the survivors and those left homeless. You'd be severing any sort of allegiances with the North."
"You overvalue yourself, servant girl, even if you speak true."
"I am no servant. I am Commander of the Guard, and the best soldier in the army of the wolves of Gryning. I personally serve under King Besegrare, ruler of the fortress on the cliffs; my hand is his sword, and my word is his word."
"Rhetha?" Silva directed her attention back to the advisor who had been standing quietly to the side. Rhethah blinked and came back to attention, squinting at the beasts who'd been arguing back and forth. It had bored her, and she'd nearly zoned out. What does she need now?
"Yes, your highness?" Rhethah asked.
"Is the girl telling the truth?"
"Yes, your highness," Rhethah adjusted her spectacles. "After your first meeting we took her for questioning. I think you'll find she's telling the truth."
"Moon take me," Silva sighed. She balled her hands into fists. Rhethah could read her still. The queen had given up being angry and was now very tired and frustrated and scared. Rethah was reminded of a child who gets so angry it just begins to cry. But the queen's face was only a minor tweak of annoyance.
"You realize, now," Valdigt said. "That we share a common enemy. And that enemy will by targeting Gryning next. If you pursued them and struck, you'd not only exact vengeance for your city, but you'd strengthen your bond with the kingdoms of the North."
"Are you suggesting an alliance, wolf?"
"Something like that. Your people have been hurt, but they're safe now. Safe to recover. What danger there was has passed -- you have no other enemies, do you? Our enemy heads North towards my people, but that does not mean they won't come back. Prevent that possibility."
Blessed Moon, that's a bold move. Rhethah blinked. She was surprised in what she was seeing from Silva. The little raise of her left eyebrow, the sideways glance. She looked deep in concentration, but Rhethah knew it meant that she was already decided.
"I would hear more of this plan, wolf. What exactly do you ask for?"
"And would you grant what I ask?"
"I cannot say when I don't know what's being asked. Don't test my patience when I'm thinking about helping."
"I request the aid of your naval fleet. However many ships you can spare, and leave the rest here. Along with the aid of your armies --"
"My armies stay here," Silva said. "As for my fleet, how exactly do you intend to get them to Gryning? The Hatskav is uncrossable, isn't it? Or are you merely taunting me?"
"True, the Teeth are in the way, but I know someone who can help you."
Valdigt looked back over her shoulder. There was an otter being held back by the guards, but Silva nodded and they finally let the girl through. She sidled up next to Valdigt and glanced nervously around.
"Not very hospitable, are they?" Thess said.
"Well then?" Silva regarded the otter with an annoyed expression. "How are you supposed to help us?"
"Name's Thess," the otter said, nodding along. "Trader and captain of the Conqueror, fastest ship on the sea."
"It's not the speed I'm worried about. It's the Teeth. How do you intend to get past that obstacle?"
"There's lotsa dangerous bits, yeah, but there's ways through. They don't extend all the way, ya see. There's some passages."
"Rhethah, how about this one? Is she lying?"
"W-Well," Rhethah jumped, caught unawares once again. "We certainly can't confirm that. There's no known way through the Teeth, and trade routes avoid it. There are stories about passageways, but nothing's ever been confirmed. At least we've got no record of anybeast charting a course through."
"That's right," Thess said, jumping back in. "An' I'll chart that first course! True that trade routes avoid the Teeth, but in all that time away things've changed, I tell ya! Rocks've fallen, reefs've shifted. I've seen it my own self. There's a passage all right."
Rhethah shrugged and shook her head.
"I cannot speak to this truth. You have to take her word."
"You tell me, then, wolf," Silva said, swinging her head back to Valdigt. "Your people purportedly put great stock in such things as honesty, when you're not going around burning each other down. Do you believe this girl about the passage?"
"You can take her word.," the wolf agreed. "She is a good captain, and honest. If anybeast knows a path, it would be her."
Who could've seen her being this receptive! Rhethah thought, watching the proceedings. How strange. She's about to comply. Silva was indeed nodding, the rings in her ears and nose tinkling together.
"Very well, wolf. But under one specific condition. When the beast falls, no matter how or who slays him, his pelt shall be delivered to me."
"The wolves accept. We will prepare our ship with the help of your quartermasters and staff. When you've chosen who will captain your fleet -- however many ships you send -- we can arrange to send off."
"I have already chosen. I will be personally attending with my fleet, acting as captain. I will leave Rhethah here to govern the throne in my absence."
That's right, Rhethah though, That's exactly -- Wait, what did she say?!
"Me?" Rhethah nearly dropped her notes, and began adjusting her spectacles again.
"Of course. You know better than anybeast what I would do. But you won't be alone. Garruk will stay behind and see that you manage the armies. Listen to him on any matters concerning the troops."
"I see," Rethah said, blinking repeatedly. She couldn't take it all in. Me? Me? I can't do this!
"I trust you," Silva said. "You're a good avisor. You can handle this. I'll be back soon enough, and with a new trophy for the throne room."
The queen made ready to depart, then stopped once to address Valdigt.
"Depart then, wolf, and I will meet you at the docks when my ships are ready."
Valdigt bowed and Silva made a dismissive gesture. The wolf and otter departed. Rhethah saw a group of attending guards follow behind them, carrying a covered body on a stretcher. A fallen comrade? Must be taking him for funeral rites.
"Come with me, Rhetha," Silva said, taking the girl's arm. "We need to begin preparations."