Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (11 page)

A hawk circled high overhead. I could see smoke to my left, most likely a settlement of some sort. I watched for a moment as the smoke drifted lazily. A good day’s march, and then what? Just grab an old man and have myself a little drink at his expense? Oggie was running around enjoying the wide
-open space. I waited until he had wiped himself out. It had become a routine with us. He would come up to me, tongue hanging out, then he’d sit on his butt in front of me and bark. This was my cue, to bend down and pick him up. Half the time now he wasn’t even falling asleep he just enjoyed the ride. Who wouldn’t? If he could have done the same for me I would have taken him up on it.

Occasionally I would ‘stretch’ my mind ou
the telepathic link me and Tommy shared. It was like I was in a continual dead spot, if I had to place a bet, then good money would be on Azile throwing up some sort of interference. Friggin witches messing shit up since the Medieval times. Should probably make that into a bumper sticker.

***

“He’s a few hours behind us,” Azile said, looking off into the distance.

Tommy turned as if he’d be able to see him. “Determined,” was his response.

Azile smiled.

“Should we let him catch up?” Tommy asked.

“Right now he’s so determined because he seeks some measure of revenge against me. We need to give him another reason for this pursuit.”

“I don’t know if you did some spell on yourself, but my behind is killing,” Tommy told her.

“Why don’t you sit on all those pastries you keep procuring?” she asked.

“You did not tell me that you are now performing the dark arts, Azile!” Tommy exclaimed.

“Come on. Let’s put a little more distance between us, were he to somehow catch us now, I’m not sure I could convince him of my intent.”

***

I was getting tired, and I needed a change of clothing. I turned towards the smoke; I could only hope they were more hospitable than the folks I had thus far encountered. Odds weren’t good, but I could hope. The traveling was difficult as I left the roadway; there were no pathways as I struggled through. The village or settlement or whatever it was appeared to be off the beaten path. Made sense; the more difficult to get to it, the less likely someone would bother. I don’t know why I didn’t reason this out further, it also meant they didn’t want visitors. Mental block on my part most likely, lord knows I’m prone to them. It took most of the day before I began to smell the scent of the living. Roasting meat, sweat, work, and wood fire – they had it all going.

I was not prepared for what I saw as I came out upon a man-made clearing. It was a walled town
; large wooden walls were erected and held together with rope so thick I don’t think Oggie could have chewed through it in a week. The tops were shaved into foreboding looking spikes and every fifty or so feet was a manned turret.

I now knew what had caused the immense clearing. Every available tree of significant size had been plundered to erect that fort. I was standing there at the edge wondering if I should advance or retreat. But the smell of roasting turkey was all the impetus Oggie needed as he began to trot towards the fortification. And to be honest, it smelled delicious to me as well. I still had what most would consider a vast amount of money, and I would gladly share for a bird or two.

“You there!” one of the men in the turret to my left shouted.

“Me?” I asked, looking around.

“State your business.”
mofont>

“A hot meal, followed by a hot bath, maybe a deep-tissue massage for me and my traveling companion. That would be for starters.”

“You see these walls?” the man asked. I noticed movement in the turret to my right.

“He looks like a brigand,” the man on the right shouted. “I could shoot him.”

“With what?” I asked trying to peer into the shadows of his enclosure. The tip of a sharp looking arrow shone brightly in the sun as he moved it forward.

It was a crossbow
; I could just make out the perpendicular arms of the bow.

“That’d be a hell of a shot,” I told him. “Been shot with a crossbow once, it was not an experience I would like to re-live.”

“Then you’d better get moving,” he replied.

“I’ve got money, I’m just looking for some food and new clothes.”

“Did the poor bastards you slaughtered on the road give you your money and your wardrobe malfunctions?”

I initially thought he was referring to Gregor, and I was wondering how he could possibly know. And then my quick-witted mind figured out that he was more likely to believe I was with Gregor or his ilk.

“I came across this money honestly. I can assure you it’s mine,” I told him, although I really didn’t know how Tommy had come by it, but he had given it to me.

“Nobody wants your money here,” the man on the left said.

“I was attacked three days ago. I defended myself and came out victorious. I do not mean to set up residency in your fair city, I just mean to eat, get some presentable clothes, maybe sleep one good night on something that does not smell of pine and old leaves, and then I will go. Gladly spending my money while I’m here.”

“Do not move,” the man on the right said.

“Can I sit?”

“Easier target, sure go ahead.”

Oggie was running circles around me trying to get me going towards the wooden wall. “I’m trying, puppy,” I told him.

He finally succumbed to weariness, yawned once, and laid his head in my lap.

“Hello, sir, my name is Chancellor Saltinda. My men have informed me that you wish to seek sanctuary for the night.” A voice called down from the turret I was looking at.

I stood up before answering. “If that’s what you call eating and getting a decent night’s rest…then yes, I am requesting sanctuary.”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Maine,” I told him without even thinking.

“The Old Lands?” he queried.

“Shit,” I said softly. “Sorry, Chancellor, I have spent the fair amount of my life away from people. I lived North of Robert’s Land.”

“Impossible, that is Micmac territory.”

“We had an understanding.”

“And what was it?”

“I never knew they were there and they apparently left me alone.”

“Your story has holes.”

“It would appear that way. Sir, I was traveling with two companions,
when I was attacked and we were separated. (Mostly true). I saw your smoke and I have sought help at your gates.”

“We don’t generally receive guests.”

“I gathered that. I’m not asking for anything, I have money.”

“Robert’s Land money is not good here.”

“Really? You don’t take gold?” I asked, jangling my bag for him to hear.

He paused. Who doesn’t when they hear that much wealth clattering around?

“Theodore, it’s one man and a dog. What harm can befall our city if we let him in?” I heard a woman question the Chancellor.

“Do you have weapons?” he asked.

I turned completely around.

“I could shoot him, sir. We could take his money,” the man on the right suggested.

“You will do no such thing,” the woman shouted out. “We would be no better than the brigands we so desperately despise and defend against.”

“And yet, my dear, here is a man incredibly far from his home with a king’s ransom…if we are to believe that what he holds is indeed gold.”

“You know what?” I asked. “I’m done here. I keep questioning why I’d want to help people and every time I get a little closer to wanting to, I meet more and more reasons not to.”

“He seems to have the—” the chancellor began.

“The dumbs, yeah, I have the dumbs, you idiot. When the storm comes, I hope that flimsy wall holds,” I said hotly.

“Are you threatening me and our town?” he questioned angrily.

“Oh come on! You can’t be so daft as to think thieves and muggers are the worst thing out there can you?”

A crossbow bolt landed about a foot away from me. “Don’t you dare speak ill of the chancellor again,” the man said.

I reached down and plucked it from the ground. I shifted it around in my hand and tossed it back at him with more force than it had arrived. The bolt quivered in a log next to his head. “If you plan on shooting at me I suggest next time you kill me,” I told him.

“My gods. Did you see that?” the woman exclaimed. “What storm do you speak of?”

“The Lycan,” I said solemnly.

I noticed movement; it appeared all of them were doing some sort of rote prayer or gesture, most likely to ward off evil.

“We have heard things,” a new female voice added.

“Lana, stop. He is merely playing on our fears,” the chancellor said to his wife, daughter, or knowing men of power, mistress.

“Does this look like I’m playing?” I asked pulling back the remnants of my shirt. Four angry puckered slashes stared back at them.

“He’s marked!” one of them cried.

“He’s a werewolf!”

“Maybe, maybe not. When did these wounds happen?” the chancellor asked.

“Two days ago. What difference does that make?”

“All the difference. Werewolves can only turn into form on the full moon, Lycan can turn whenever they like.”

“They’re not the same thing?” I asked confused.

“A werewolf is an infected human, the Lycan is their master.”

“I had no idea. Figured one furry beast was the same as the other.” Oggie barked at me. “Well, of course I’m not talking about you.”

“How do you feel?” the man asked.

“Hungry, somewhat tired, got a little road rash going on in my lower regions. Some blisters on my feet, I could probably take a shit if prompted.”

“There’s a lady here!” the chancellor shouted.

“You asked. I’m merely trying to be honest.”

“I meant
, how you feel in regards to your injuries.”

“I feel fine.”

“It was not even close to a full moon two nights ago. If what you say is true and you were attacked by a Lycan, you are now infected.”

I paled at those words. Infected meant germs.

“Unless.”

“Unless what?” I asked, grasping for straws.

“You killed it or it dies before the full moon.”

“What?”
Sometimes this world made me feel like I truly had the dumbs.

“It is widely believed that the host Lycan that inflicts the damage must remain alive until the first full moon for the change to take place in those it has infected.”

“Okay…wait. So you’re saying if the beast that did this to me is dead, then I’m fine?”

The man shrugged, “That’s common folklore.”

“Sir, he probably is a Lycan, I should just shoot him and be done with it. If he’s not a Lycan, chances are he’s a werewolf. Either way, he needs to die.”

“I defeated the thing that attacked me.”

“Isn’t that what a Lycan would say?” one of the wall walkers said.

“If I was indeed a Lycan, that twelve-foot wall you have would not be a problem. The beast I fought was at least eight feet tall. I imagine he could have just reached up and pulled you down from your lofty little perch,” I told him.

The man stepped back a pace.

“Listen, this has been informative
, and I’“">, andve got plenty to think on, but I need to catch up to the rest of my party. I’d like to thank you for your hospitality, but I guess that won’t be the case. Do yourselves a favor though. Build higher walls.” I turned to leave.