DogForge (11 page)

Ivan nodded. His energy field shimmered in the dusty wind.

Denali glanced over at Ivan and peered at the strange looking box strapped to his chest. A relic of some long battle, she was told, and now he was almost invincible. Almost.

“We go in two packs. The maulers with me,” Samus said to the group. “The pups are with me.”

“That’s not—” Grat started to protest.

“—your decision,” Samus growled. “Unless you want to challenge me again?”

Grat looked down.

“Once they’re in the gates we’ll meet up and fight our way out.” Samus turned to Denali. “You’re with Grat, if you smell more, let him know.”

“We can’t keep pace,” Ivan added.

“We’ll be going slow enough to kill.”

Ivan looked satisfied with the answer.

“Take five paws of marauders,” Samus said to Grat. “All we need to do is get them in the gates. Don’t stop.”

Grat stared back at Samus and then averted his eyes.

Samus growled and loped away with Ivan close behind. The two stopped and spoke. Denali watched them and saw Ivan look back at her, no, she thought, back at Grat.

“Father?” Denali asked, but Grat was already heading towards his group. She turned with an eye on Ivan and ran after.

“Stay close to me, child. At the edge is a great wall. We’ll run that edge in. At the gates you will enter,” Grat said. “Enter the gate with your tribute, then they’ll let you in.”

Will it be enough?
She stared up at the canister on his neck and prayed it would be.

Denali shivered in the cool air and tried to walk as tall as she could. The adrenaline ran strong and it hit her that in a matter of minutes the trial could begin. “Then what?”

Howls and barks sounded across the ash. The yellow dogs yipped and danced like heathens beneath the moon. Behind them dust-whipped clouds showed mirages of the wreckage. Metal things seemed to dance in the wind, but only dogs came out.

Grey dogs with muzzles covered in wiry hair. Black dogs with tails scraggly and short. There were dogs of every sort standing in groups and packs.

Several came out farther into the ash and howled at the yellow dogs. When the line of yellow haired dogs met them, they all retreated into the wreckage field.

Denali felt like her heart stopped cold. The fear of the unknown trial disappeared and a more immediate fear pulsed through her. “They’re all here to stop me?”

“No,” a shaggy faced mauler said. He turned and licked his fur. “They’re here to stop Samus.”

Denali glanced at him. “Why?”

The dog sat and the armor plate clanked onto the ground. “He gets a bigger pack and now he can raid them all. They be vassals then, to his pack.” The dog flicked his nose at Grat. “Like his old man did, that bastard ruled half these packs.”

“What happened?”

The dog yawned. “The old man got himself chewed up.”

“Oh.”

Ivan barked three hard sounds and the maulers, scattered about, all ran to him. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, with the sound of clinking steel. Ivan strutted in the forefront and looked to both Samus and Grat. He bowed his head to a small dog, a most definite runt, and sent him running towards Grat.

Denali watched as the runt, even smaller than she, trundled past. She followed him with her eyes and couldn’t help but give a nervous smile.

The runt yipped, kicked his rear high, and walked on only his front paws. He grinned at Denali. “Just lika de men!”

The runt dropped back down to four legs and stopped when he reached Grat. Grat lowered his head, listened, and nodded.

Samus ran out between the two groups and turned to face them. His eyes glistened in the sun and he bared his teeth. “Now! Now is our day! They fear us so much that they’d doom our children to be exiles.”

His words hung in the air and he swung his head from side to side and peered into the eyes of those before him. “Now! Now we show them what the chosen ones can do. It’s time to finish what we started. Run! Run like we own this place,” he turned and howled. “Because soon we will!”

He trotted forward, turned one last time, and howled back. “Fight now for your pups!”

Denali, as nervous as she was, felt a stirring in her chest. She was proud, she didn’t quite know why, but this was her moment. If she failed, she failed while striving to remain a conscious being, not as a pawn or a wild thing. Then she remembered that Samus, and Samson, wanted her dead. She set her muzzle low and waited for the call.

“Come!” Grat bellowed to Denali.

She ran to his side and listened as he bowed his head.

“Get the other young ones, all of you stay together.”

“We can help!” Denali said.

“No,” his voice boomed. “You’ll stand by my side another day.” Grat rested his nose onto Denali’s neck and then stood straight again. “Now go, get ready!”

Denali yipped through the pack and rounded up the others. They followed her grudgingly with heavy packs weighing them down. They feigned disinterest until the marauders made them snap to. No one wanted to follow the lead of the runt.

They began to move, at first in a tight bunch but then into the shape of two wedges. Wedges tipped by fang and claw with an eye for violence and a taste for blood. The ash bloomed behind them in a great billowing cloud. Through it the light drifted in clouds of darkness with a shift of red. The dogs marched forward, faster, almost at a gallop.

The defenders emerged in even greater groups and came together to meet the attackers. Howls and barks grew louder and more dogs emerged, wild eyed, covered in dirt and rust.

Denali could smell it. A smell like she’d never known, a smell of violence, anger, and fear. She ran faster and snapped her head from side to side. She yipped out in excitement and the others around her followed suit in a cacophony of song. The marauders said nothing and trotted faster.

The two lines grew closer and the groups formed into clusters directly opposing each other. The pace was set by the maulers, the heavy armored mercenaries loped as fast as they could manage. Ivan snarled in the lead and thrashed his head from side to side.

Then, they met.

There was a crashing of meat on meat. It was a heavy thud echoing in rib cages. It was followed by a gnashing of teeth that sounded like ivory smashing onto ice. Then the roar, a deep guttural thing, violent and filled with rage. The lines merged and the wind engulfed them all in broken ash, the remnants of some long lost war.

Denali charged with the other unblooded dogs. She heard the violence, the roaring, the thrashing and was afraid. But still, she ran towards the sound. The first corpse she came upon was of a brown dog with his throat shredded and raw.

The other unblooded dogs set upon the wounded and the dead and relished the task.

Denali turned away and felt a sickness rising in her stomach. She knew then that she was different, there was no pleasure in her at the dispatching of the wounded.

They pushed farther into the ash cloud. The first of the rust covered hulks emerged and Denali knew they were past the edge. The defenders line had broken.

The wind, broken by the wreckage, lost all energy and the gathered ash fell. Beyond was the wastes of machines.

Denali stumbled past heaps of shredded wire. She stopped in the clear air and stared down, just for a moment, at one of Karoc’s disciples. His name was Rader and his eyes were gone from his head. The other young ones slowed and the yipping stopped.

They sprinted past the somber wreckage and skirted over metallic feet, thrown tracks, and dead devices. On top of the wreckage lay the wrecked corpses of dogs. They came thicker and the wounds were terrible.

Denali stopped on the backside of some metal behemoth and panted in the shadow of rust. She jumped to the side and saw a grey dog she didn’t know trailing intestines behind him. His face was set in a grimace of pain. She fell back onto the rough metal and couldn’t do anything. The sight was terrible to her.

Mjol ran over to him, raised a leg, and pissed on his back. A few others ran over and did the same. The grey dog snarled and whined and tried to roll. Finally Mjol clamped his teeth onto the dogs neck and thrashed his head from side to side. 

“Runt!” Mjol added excitedly. His tail swished from side to side. “C’mon, runt!”

And they were off again.

The front line of the battle raged. Grat stood alone with a pack of dogs dwarfed beneath him. His line surged to reach him, but he had no issue holding his attackers away.

Denali ran forward and stopped. She yearned to fight beside Grat, but knew she’d never push through the line to get to him.

As quickly as Grat was surrounded he was free. His massive head swung into a black dog and bowled him into a strut of iron. On the return he picked up a smaller dog and shook him until the body was limp. A marauder sprung up next to Grat and protected his flank while other marauders fought forward.

The ash covered everyone. All of the dogs took on the same look.

Denali came upon body after body, unsure at first if friend or foe, and always trusting her nose. She lost sight of Grat. Fear shot through her that she’d find his body. More dogs fell. Marauders and defenders. Even the armored mercenaries following Ivan suffered casualties.

She stopped and leaped on top of an armored vehicle with the turret flipped off. The wall of the complex loomed large above her. She caught her first sight of the gates and felt despair. The dark openings were still a long way off.

Denali yelped and shivered. The fear of being a wild dog, losing all consciousness, and descending to the animal place drove her onward. She looked for the other unblooded dogs but saw none in the battle around her.

The battle line shifted and suddenly the fighting erupted around her.

D
enali leaped down into the fight. Walls of fur, limbs, and snarling mouths thrashed around her. She raced between legs, under stomachs, and scrambled to find cover.

She screamed out. A searing tear shot through her shoulder. She rolled back, wild eyed, and saw a dog with no lower jaw.

It thrashed at her with its front claws. The dog wobbled from one side to the next. Its eyes rolled up and back down again. It made no sound and tried to leap forward.

She scampered away, drawing it farther from the line of battle. Her stomach tightened and the deep scratches in her shoulder wept blood. “Come on!” she growled back at the dog.

It charged in again and threw both of its paws up. The claws slammed onto the ground. Denali dodged away.

Denali rushed in and bit down on the dog’s throat. She could taste the dog and wanted to let go. He tasted like old caribou and summer meadows. She shut off her mind and squeezed with every bit of muscle she could bear. There was a taste of blood, a metallic tin taste, and then the dog broke free.

He tried to bark, but it sounded like a gurgle. He flailed about and set upon Denali with his claws.

She fell to the ground and tried to escape. Her feet slipped in the ash, she couldn’t get away.

Grat erupted from the line of battle and snapped his bloodstained teeth onto the dog’s spindly rear leg. He heaved the dog back, whipped it to one side, and threw it against a rust pitted walker.

“Get back! The line is failing,” Grat barked. His voice was hoarse and he stunk of blood. His shoulders and hind quarters were covered in bites and searing scratches. The taint of battle was upon him.

Denali leapt to her feet. “No! It’s so close, I can make it through the line!” She knew she could. Failure on this day was not an option. “I have to get in!”

Grat swayed and dropped down on one leg. He lowered his head close to Denali. “We’ll assault it again, we have more time. We can break the line.”

She knew it was a lie and felt angry. If they couldn’t break the line today then they never would. She’d be doomed to the life of a stupid animal. Her eyes caught the canister and saw the blue light. “I won’t become an animal,” she growled angrily.

“Denali,” Grat said. Even with the battle raging behind him, he focused everything on her.

Denali leapt up, snagged the caribou bindings in her mouth, and tore them loose. The knots held for a moment, and then snapped. The canister clanged onto the ground and Denali snatched up.

“Denali!” Grat boomed.

She leapt away from him and towards the line. Her eyes snapped back and forth and saw an opening in a fight. One group of defenders had shifted to the side to assault the maulers. She saw Ivan not far down the line and knew it was a good spot to go.

Denali sprinted through the gap and into the zone where the fighting was thickest. Casualties were taken and given and the line ebbed like a high tide of violence.

She dodged groups that swirled and stabbed forth with snarling teeth. Her small body fit in between legs, under stomachs, and went places the larger dogs couldn’t go.

She grinned past the canister. The line was growing thin and then as suddenly as it started she was through. She sprinted around the corner of an ancient vehicle and came face to face with a massive dog.

The dogs tilted his head at Denali. He looked down his scar stubbled nose at her. There was a questioning moment, a pause where his eyes unfocused and took it in. “What’s dis, eh? What’s dis?”

Denali, thinking of nothing better to do, dropped the canister and snapped her teeth down onto the scarred nose.

The beast of a dog roared and rose on two legs.

Denali snatched up the canister and sprinted directly between his legs. She passed between his tree trunk legs and met the rest of his pack. She tried to run, but was caught between the two.

Scar-nose swung his body around and snapped at Denali. The bite just missed her. The pack circled around and yipped in excitement. Denali was trapped.

She dodged from one side to the next and met snapping muzzles. Fear coursed through her and she saw no escape. The canister was still heavy in her mouth and it tasted horrible. She didn’t dare drop it to run, and saw no point anyways.

“You bit da wrong one, sweety,” he said. He was totally oblivious to the battle raging not far behind him and his eyes were only for Denali.