In The Shadow Of The Beast (32 page)

Far below, armored cavalry was streaming
into the village from all sides, slaughtering the community as it
descended from the trees in an attempt to escape the flames.

She joined others who were running in the
direction of Arook’s household. One of the few remaining pods that
was not ablaze or had been dashed to splinters by falling
trees.

Arriving at her leader’s chambers, she was
not surprised to find that many of the menfolk had assembled there
to receive orders and arm themselves.

Isolde smiled at what a cruel hand fate had
dealt them. Had this attack taken place during the course of the
night, when her people were able to effect The Change upon
themselves, the invaders might find themselves sorely wishing
they’d left the wulfen well alone. Now, during the dull light of
the emerging day, Isolde and the rest of her kind were locked in
their daywalker forms and must arm themselves for the struggle with
whatever crude blades or tools they had to hand.

Standing at the centre of the maelstrom of
heaving bodies was Arook, a figure of measured calm in a sea of
madness. Isolde rushed to his side so that she could relay to him
the news that Sigourd was missing. Whatever happened here today, he
must be found and kept safe, and Arook must be made aware of his
disappearance.

More and more of the others were filing out
of the chamber to join the fight. They rushed to take up positions
and hold objectives that might buy their families more time to
escape into the safety of the forest. Isolde struggled past them,
reaching Arook just as he took up his own curved blade and made
ready to meet the foe.

‘
Sigourd is missing!’ she
called to him.

Arook looked up, his face twisting in dismay
at this news. He was quiet for a moment as he considered their
options before finally answering, ‘Get to ground level and into the
forest to see if he is amongst the survivors. I will hold the
village for as long as I can before falling back behind you. We
will search for Sigourd when we have secured the safety of the
community.’

‘
Who are they?’ asked
Islode, ‘why are they attacking us?’

Arook smiled down at her, and she noticed a
serenity to him that she had rarely seen, ‘They are men, child,’ he
said, ‘just men.We have no time to waste, go now, do as I have
asked Isolde.’

‘
But what if he’s out
there, what if they have Sigourd already?’

Arook placed a comforting hand upon her
shoulder, ‘Fear not. The All-mother did not place Sigourd in our
hands only for him to be stolen from us by man or death. We will
find him.’

The quiet reassurance in his tone lifted
Isolde’s spirits immediately, she smiled, ‘I believe we will.’

‘
Father!’ The voice was
loud, rising brazenly over the crashing and booming of the
destruction being wrought around them, and both Isolde and Arook
turned to see who it was that had spoken out. Striding into the
chamber ahead of four of his men, Bael wore his customarily
brooding scowl.

‘
Bael,’ cried Arook, ‘take
your men to the northern slopes and try to push around behind the
invaders.’

‘
I will not,’ came the
younger man’s terse reply.

Isolde saw Arook’s jaw tighten in response,
but he retained his composure in the face of his son’s insolence.
‘This is no time for petty bickering. We must organize ourselves or
the community is doomed.’

A strange, blank expression came over Bael’s
face,‘Yes. It is.’

As understanding dawned on Arook, his eyes
went wide with surprise, ‘You and your men were supposed to be
guarding the approach to the village. What have you done?’

‘
Only what you were too
weak of heart to do, father,’ said Bael.

Arook could hardly believe what he knew to
be true, ‘You allowed them to pass!’

‘
Great All-mother!’
exclaimed Isolde in horror.

‘
I have given our disparate
peoples a reason to unite,’ said Bael, his voice rising in fervor
as he continued, ‘I have given them a chance to take back a world
that is theirs by right!’

‘
You have destroyed us boy!
All of us!’ shouted Arook, for the first time all trace of his
usual stoic demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a red tide
of bloody fury and sorrow.

Arook made to draw his blade, but before he
could even clear the sword from its sheath, Bael had uncovered his
own wicked looking dagger, and punched it into his fathers
heart.

There was a moment of silence, as if every
soul in the room stood in momentary shock at what had just
transpired. Arook blinked in surprise as a single bead of blood ran
over the hilt of the dagger, tracing a carnelian line along Bael’s
closed fist.

That tiny droplet became the focus of
Isolde’s whole world. The moment seemed to drag on for an eternity
and then....the droplet fell to the ground, hitting the floor of
the chamber in perfect silence and all the life and sound and color
and horror flooded back in to assail her senses. Isolde was
screaming then. Screaming Arook’s name as he slumped forward onto
his son, who lowered him gently to the ground. She was still
screaming Arook’s name as Bael’s men took hold of her.

Sigourd lowered himself from the branches of
the canopy. After narrowly escaping being dragged to his death
along with the great chamber as the entire structure had
disappeared from beneath him, he had climbed through the canopy to
reach a point where he might be able to drop to ground level.

Durning his descent he had had time to take
account of their attackers. He recognized them immediately as a
company from one of his uncle’s proud regiments, and knew that The
Baron was responsible for this bitterly heinous massacre.

Sigourd could feel his stomach churn with
anger. That his own family could be responsible for such horrors
beggared belief, even considering recent revelations about his
past.

As luck would have it, he spied now from his
concealed vantage point amongst the trees a lone cavalryman who had
taken up post nearby. The soldier had clearly been assigned the
role of keeping watch to make sure none of the fleeing villagers
got past him. Sigourd could make out the frustration in the
soldier’s expression, and mused that the conflict was momentarily
going to get much closer than the fellow expected.

Swinging down from the branches in which he
had crouched, Sigourd struck out with his foot, feeling with great
satisfaction the jaw of the Baratiis crack beneath the heel of his
boot. Such was the force of the impact that it snapped the man’s
head back on his shoulders. His crested helm was sent clattering to
the floor as the cavalryman himself toppled ungraciously from the
saddle, crashing to the cold floor of the forest with a brutal thud
where he lay unmoving.

Sigourd dropped into the saddle and took up
the reigns. Wheeling the horse about to once more face the blazing
village, he sighted the man he was looking for.

Huron sat upon his war horse, a beast as
black as coal, at the centre of the chaos. All around him fires
raged as he swung his mighty death axe, cleaving the heads and
torsos of those foolish enough to try to unmount him.

Sigourd spurred his horse into a gallop, the
animal leaping into a headlong charge as the heir to the realm of
Atos drew his blade. The knight Huron paused in his dealing of
death, perhaps detecting the sound of the thundering hooves behind
him over the tumult of the carnage, or maybe it was some innate
sixth sense that cause him to turn to raise his axe in time to
deflect the murderous blow that Sigourd swung at his neck.

Sigourd’s blade rang off the heavy steel of
Huron’s axe, the sound cutting across the din like a banshee crying
out in surprise.

‘
My lord!’ exclaimed Huron
as he wheeled his steed about to face his attacker, ‘I would see
you returned safely to the palace.’

‘
And I would see my uncle
damned for sending his butcher to fetch me home,’ exclaimed
Sigourd, unbridled rage rising in his throat like a wave of
nausea.

‘
The Baron’s damnation has
never been in doubt. Nevertheless, I am tasked to this endeavor,’
said the knight.

‘
What endeavor would that
be, the murder of innocents?’

‘
I am tasked to return you
to safety, and to annihilate the foes of The Baron,’ stated Huron
matter of factly.

Sigourd kicked his horse into a gallop once
more, leveling his blade for the high pass, ‘I deny you the first
priority,’ roared the young lord, ‘so try me on the second!’

Huron raised his axe, and gouged his spurs
into the side of his steed, sending the beast flying. The two men
charged toward each other, racing to doom or glory as the village
of the wulfen burned around them.

Isolde dropped to her knees beside Arook as
the life bled out of him. All he could manage was a weak smile as
she looked upon him, before his eyes fluttered once, and the light
went out of him forever. She dropped her head to his chest and wept
as Bael looked on, his face an impassive mein, ‘Would you ever weep
so for me Isolde. I know we have had our differences but...’

Isolde looked up slowly from Arook’s corpse,
‘Bastard.’ She almost spat the word, her contempt for the
traitorous Bael was so great.

‘
A pity,’ said Bael, ‘get
her up.’

His men moved to obey, hauling Isolde
roughly to her feet where she stood defiant before Bael’s cruel
gaze. He had the wicked looking dagger in his hand, his father’s
blood still warm upon its length, and now he held it up level with
Isolde’s face, the point aimed toward her throat.

‘
You will be as exquisite
in death as you are in life,’ he said, that playful, contemptuous
sneer upon his lips. He leaned in closer to her tear streaked face
to better savor her fear. Isolde held firm, unwilling to give him
the satisfaction of seeing the fear she felt.

With a sound like an egg cracking, an arrow
slammed into the throat of the wulfen holding her left arm. He
barely had time to register his own death as he dropped to the
floor. An instant later the wulfen in front of her went down
clutching an arrow that pierced his chest above his heart.

They all turned in surprise to see where the
projectiles had come from, and were shocked to see the wild man
Jonn Grumble sprinting at them from across the chamber, dropping
the bow with one hand as he reached over his shoulder to draw his
deadly sword staff with the other.

The wild man released an ululating war cry
as he leapt into the air, bringing his blade down across the skull
of the third wulfen, shearing his head into two separate parts
before spinning and ducking under the clumsy sword thrust of
another and coming up in a pirouette, following through with his
dagger which he buried in the unfortunate wulfen’s stomach.

Bael was no swordsman, and realized soon
enough that his cohort had not the skill with their own blades to
stop the wild man. He backed toward the entrance to the chamber,
using the distraction to slip away as Jonn Grumble fell upon the
hapless bodyguards.

Jonn Grumble was already pirouetting again,
whirling his sword staff around and bringing its razor edge to bear
even before the last wulfen had hit the floor, dead.

He stopped the the blade short, a hair’s
breadth from Isolde’s neck.

‘
Where’s the lad?’ asked
the wild man.

Sigourd wheeled his horse about, and charged
again at the knight. Huron raised his great war axe to fend of
another blow from the relentless attack of his liege lord. Their
blades flashed in the light of the inferno, sparks flying like
dancing fireflies each time the two weapons met with a sound like a
smith’s hammer falling upon the anvil.

Sigourd rained mad blow after blow at his
adversary, for in the grips of a vile rage, all his skill was
forgotten. He could not and would not attempt to stem the tidal
wave of emotion that poured from him now. Finally, he had a focus
for all of his rage. All of his pain.

For his part, Huron was less interested in
taking the head from the boy king before him as he was in
preventing his own head from being taken off his shoulders. He
blocked and parried, utilizing every trick and counter to keep
Sigourd from slipping inside his guard.

As their blades met in a dance of death, so
to did the horses beneath them move and jostle for position. The
animals had far from an easy time of it, the flickering fires
growing ever nearer, the uneven ground beneath their hooves making
their quick stepping treacherous work.

Huron’s great battle steed, an animal that
had seen him through countless engagements and had more experience
of battlefield situations than a good number of the Baratiis
fighting around them, lost its footing amongst the tall grasses of
the forest floor, stumbling as its hoof was tripped by an unseen
root or depression in the ground.

The animal lurched forward suddenly, falling
face first into the dirt beneath it with a grunt, and sending the
knight Huron head over heels over the top of it.

Huron himself grunted with the excessive
impact, his armored form clattering heavily into the ground.
Cursing as he got to his feet, he lashed out at his steed, catching
the animal with a brutal back hand across its maw. The creature
reeled away, stunned with the force of the blow.

In an instant Sigourd was bearing down on
his enemy, eager to press the advantage presented him. The young
lord spurred his own mount into another charge, his blade raised
high for the killing stroke as he attempted to ride down Huron from
his elevated position.