Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (15 page)

I was fairly convinced my left shoulder was dislocated, aggravating an old injury that had never been properly treated. I grunted as I rammed my shoulder into the tree, the audible pop let me know I had reengaged the mechanism. I ducked as the werewolf swiped at my head. Two swaths of bark were sheared away; leaving bloody streaks where my head had been. Had I not made my new friend a permanent lefty, he would have ripped off the top of my head.

Somewhere distant I heard a man scream, I was so far removed from everything as my world was reduced to
my opponent and myself. That was all that mattered, my survival, his death. Steel slashed as I had the audacity to press the attack. There was a moment (most likely in my imagination) where the werewolf couldn’leclf coult believe my nerve. He pressed on and I caught him high on the chest, slicing a wound that would have stopped a man. As he moved past it, my sword sliced into his biceps, the muscle curling as I cleaved it. Now I had his attention. His rage howling drowned out everything around me. He rushed past my sword, making it no more effective than a bullet-less rifle.

I didn’t have the room to back up; our circle had been compressed to a dot. We were fighting for our existence on an insignificant parcel of land the size of a kitchen table. I didn’t yet know who lived and who had fallen, that would have to wait. When I could back up, that would mean I was on my own. The werewolf was inches from my face, his muzzle dripping saliva all over my hand as I fought to hold him at bay. His left arm had fallen to its side, almost useless, and he could not get a grip on my arm with his now disfigured right.

My shoulder screamed as I caught him under the jaw line. I could feel his windpipe begin to close as I clamped shut. His feet began to rise up as I simultaneously cut his air supply off and lifted him into the air. I thrust him back far enough that I could pierce his chest with the sword. I shoved it through his chest plate and then wrenched the steel upwards. Cutting through his being, the left side of him began to slough off. I quickly pulled my sword all the way up, and with a determined slice, I chopped his head off. I kicked his body away before he had the chance to fall.

I screamed – it was my war cry. I had defeated an enemy in battle and my blood was boiling. I became a tempest as I moved to my side. The chancellor had suffered a wound defending his daughter. She had blood on her, but I didn’t think it was her own. The werewolf looked to me as I got between it and its prey.

“Dead now, motherfucker,” I told it. Its head cocked to the side much like Oggie’s would. It rang my bell as a hand caught the side of my head. “Worth it,” I said as I drove my sword home.

I was hilt deep before I pulled away. His jaw was still snapping but it had lost some of its vigor. It was bringing its arms back up to defend itself when Oggie circled behind and chewed a
t its Achilles tendon. The beast fell to its knees; to say I was concerned about where his large cavernous, teethed mouth was in proximity to my well-being was a vast understatement. I hadn’t used my equipment in its intended manner in millennia, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want it exactly where it was supposed to be. I danced back, raised my sword and drove it straight through the animal’s mouth as if in protest for what he threatened. He fell over with a louder thud than I should have been able to hear.

I was in a full on rage. I was hyper-aware, not a sound or a move could escape my attention. A bat swooped past capturing a large moth as I pivoted. Blood slammed through me as I sought out another. I could feel individual heartbeats even as they rivaled the pace of a humming bird.

Three of the chancellor’s men had fallen. Lana and her father were keeping one of the werewolves at bay. I pinioned my head, sweat came off in sheets, individual droplets hurtled out into space. I could hear them as they splashed down onto the leaves below. The two remaining men were fighting off the other werewolf and seemed to be winning. I turned back to the chancellor and Lana; and once again stepped in front of him, nearly catching a sword for my troubles.

Oggie was barking at the beast, trying to distract it. It was working
; he or she, I don’t know and I wasn’t goinmy asn’tg to stop and ask, kept stealing glances behind to see how close the dog was. When it looked like it was going to turn and attack its distant cousin, I pounced.

“
Hurt?” I asked it as I pierced its side.

It howled in rage and agony. Oggie kept spinning as the werewolf did, making sure he was always at its back. When it realized it was losing the battle, it rushed me – I guess hoping to off one of us so it could focus on the other. Before I could bring the sword to bear, he crashed into me, sending me hurtling towards the ground. I knew this was going to suck, I’d had enough two hundred-plus pounders knock me into the turf when I played football. Air wasn’t so much expelled from my lungs as it was compelled to leave. My vision blackened as large spots drifted across my visage.

As I struggled against my opponent, I wondered why he wasn’t delivering killing blows. That was when I saw Lana removing her short sword from the side of the werewolf’s head. She had stuck it through its temple hard enough that it had exited the far side. Her father helped roll him off of me. Oggie jumped in to lick my face.

“I’m fine, pup,” I told him, standing quickly.

As I got my feet back under me, Lana helped me the rest of the way up. Her Dad turned to help the other two men. It was three on one and it was still close and about the time Lana and I turned our attention his way we heard a loud piercing whistle. The werewolf’s head swiveled to the sound; I could tell he was about to bound off. I ran my sword through him before he had a chance. He turned back towards me but it was too late. The two men were taking out their fear and aggression – and a fair measure of revenge – on him. Repeatedly cutting him with their swords.

I pulled back to let them finish. Not more than thirty yards was a figure watching
us. It stood a couple of feet taller than the werewolves, broader at the shoulders as well. That look was pure malevolent intelligence.

“You are marked,” It growled.

“Get in fucking line!” I yelled at it. “Or better yet, bring your mangy ass over here and we’ll settle this now!”

It roared
; there’s no other descriptor I can use that will better describe what it did. Howl just sounds so weak to define the sound that came out. It gave one more long searching look, maybe to decide if it had a chance or, more likely, to burn my image into its memory…and then it was gone. Almost faster than I could track it with my eye.

Plumes of
breath issued up from our hard fought victory, all of our chests were heaving as our bodies came down from their battle highs. The breathing was heavy and sounded like a sex operator’s wet dream. I was the first to speak.

“They’re gone.” I was finally able to catch a full breath after the werewolf had taken it from me. My shoulder throbbed
, as did my head. I had a fair amount of gashes, bruises and bloody spots, but I was far from the worst of those of us that still lived. “Are you hurt?” I asked spinning to Lana. She shook her head.

“Dad?” she asked.

He had a wicked looking cut on the side of his face, but other than that, he looked fine. We turned our attention to the other two men. roaer two The skinnier of the two was helping his stout friend slowly to the ground.

“Delano’s got a broken arm,” he said, resting him against a tree.

“He’s got more than that,” I said, getting down next to the man. “What’s your name?” I asked the man.

“Pieter.”

“Pieter, go grab that man’s scabbard and break it in two. We’ll use that as a splint, and grab his belt as well. We’ll use that to secure it.” I was looking at the gash on Delano’s right thigh. Splint or no, he was going to die from blood loss long before he needed to worry about a broken arm.

“Got it,” Pieter said.

Lana got down next to me; she ripped Delano’s pants wider. She produced a small leather pouch with a needle, thread, and a jar of some sort of apothecary medicine.

“What the hell else you carrying?” I asked. Hoping that maybe somewhere on her she housed a beer.

“Lana’s always been one to be prepared,” her father said proudly. “I should check on the other men and the horses. My poor dogs.”

“
There’ll be time enough to bury them,” I told him as I grabbed the scabbard parts from Pieter. “This is going to hurt,” I told Delano.

“Wait, wait,” Lana said, giving a small bottle to Delano. “Drink it all, tastes really bad, but in a few minutes you won’t care.”

“Got any more of that?” I asked, wondering what it was she had just given him.

“Just give it a few minutes. You’ll know when it has started to work and then you can set his arm,” Lana said to me.

“What are you?” the chancellor asked me.

“What?” I asked back, I had been intent on Delano’s condition and with watching Lana clean out the wound.

“I saw you lift that werewolf off its feet,” the chancellor said.

“Adrenaline,” I told him. He was shaking his head. “Trick of the light?” He was still shaking his head. “He was very skinny. You’re still shaking your head. I gave you three valid excuses, you can use one or a combination of any of them.”

“The drug is starting to take effect,” Lana told me.

“Will he turn into a werewolf?” I asked, looking at the wound she was now sewing up.

That got everyone’s attention. Pieter had re-drawn his weapon after having put it back in its sheath.

“These were werewolves, only Lycan can infect people,” she said, pulling another suture tight.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

She pointed over to the body of a young woman.

“What the fuck?” I asked, falling back.

Oggie was sniffing at her body.

“They always go back to their original form when they die according to the legends.” She cut the thread. “You want me to splint his arm?” she asked, trying to regain my attention.heay atten

I pulled my gaze from the raven-haired beauty that had died at the point of my sword. It would have been much easier if she were a he, maybe a little older and covered in lesions. Or, better yet, had retained the lethal form of the animal that had tried to kill us all.

“Dammit.” I pulled away from a woman that wasn’t much older than my own daughter when we had started fighting zombies. “You set it, I’ll splint it,” I told her.

Delano groaned a little as we worked but, for the most part, he was off in La-La Land – a place I wished to visit.

When we were finished, I looked at the rest of the fallen werewolves, all of them had reverted back to their human forms. The oldest male was ruddy, his hands calloused.

“That’s Yolen Penderast,” the chancellor said aloud. “That’s his wife, Hilda and their two kids Zeta and Poolin. They work the west fields; used to live in the city and decided that they wanted more space. We hadn’t heard from them in a few weeks and had sent out a couple of teams looking for them,
with no luck. Now we know,” he said sadly, the weight of his office pressing on his shoulders. He had lost a family of charges on his watch, and it was not sitting well with him.

“What is going on?” I asked, standing after Delano’s arm was fixed in a crude splint. “You guys saw the other one, right?”

Lana nodded. “Lycan. It was almost like he had these werewolves out on a hunt.”

“Scouts or a training mission,” I said, but it could have easily been a question.

“This is preposterous,” Lana’s dad said.

“I agree,” I told him. “Preposterous that there are werewolves and Lycan.”

“These were good people.” He looked at the fallen family before him.

“This is my fault.” Lana stood, wiping the hair from her face or possibly a tear. “If I hadn’t run off, these people would all still be alive.”

I saw a different spin on the events; I was wondering which way the Chancellor was going to see it. His face was twisted in anguish.

“You may have just saved your entire village,” I told her.

Lana’s confused expression matched her father’s as they both looked at me.

“You told me he didn’t believe you,” I directed to Lana. “You have to accept what’s right in front of you now,” I said to him.

“A war? Hardly,” he said, I guess not wanting to realize the truth and who could blame him.