Lycan Fallout: Rise Of The Werewolf (27 page)

The werewolves were kept on short leashes as their Lycan masters led them through the woods – the smell of the humans nearly driving the untamed hoard into a frenzy. Muzzles dripped with long spools of spittle. Large, yellow curved teeth glinted in the burgeoning moonlight. Choke collars were pawed at as werewolves did their best to howl through the constricting devices. Fires were burning all along the human wall-way. The smell of the smoke incited instinctual responses in Lycan and werewolf alike. For the Lycan it was fear, for the werewolf it was the pang for what was familiar and n ^ wrsesow lost.

“Wait,” Xavier said as he walked among the werewolves.

He loathed that he had to use them, that his race was not yet strong enough to destroy the humans grated on him. To use mankind against itself was a brilliant leap on his part, but he longed to be in the midst of the fight and not watching from the sidelines. He wanted to be there when man fell; not need to have the information relayed back to him. The werewolves cowered when he was in their presence, their tails tucked deeply between their legs, more than a few groveling in their fear urine, some whining uncontrollably. It was not lost on him that he was sending cowards to kill cowards.

Then he remembered back to Yutu. That man had not been a coward. In fact, he welcomed his journey into the underworld and the great passing. To be a great leader he would have to remember not to underestimate his enemy – something he had not grasped quite yet. He waited a little while longer until the moon in all its intensity and cruel beauty was overhead.

“Leave the collars on and release them,” he instructed his handlers.

Three hundred werewolves raced across the fields that led into the small city. Stalks and crops folded under the assault as they were ground into the dirt. Farm animals were the first to warn of the danger as the silent enemy bounded towards them. Sheep bleated and ran as the herds were torn apart.

“Stupid werewolves,” Xavier hissed as the alarm was being raised. “They could have been over the walls before anyone knew it. Now there will be a battle. More of them will die.”

“Does it matter, my
Lord?” One of the handlers asked. “It is still man killing man.”

Xavier spun. “You
, of all Lycan, should know the resources that went into capturing this many of the hairless ones. Housing them, feeding them, training them. Once this attack is over, the humans will be alerted to what we are attempting to do and it will be twice as difficult to round them up in numbers. If this doesn’t go well, more of us will die.”

Yelling could be heard from the village. Questioning words quickly became cries of warning.

Torches began to blaze. The twang of arrows being loosed was quickly being replaced by the sound of steel being drawn as the werewolves drew close. The cries of men were intermingled with the stunted grunting of the werewolves on the prowl.

The moon was making its final descent when the screams began to tail off and diminish into the wind that pulled them away. By the time the Lycan strode in, the village had been destroyed; some structures still stood but would not make it through a winter untended. Bodies and parts of bodies littered the small street that led down the center of town. Werewolves were in the process of turning back into their more familiar form. Some were languishing in guilt and horror at the travesties they had performed mere moments ago.

The werewolves would remember their actions through a haze of confusion and feral feelings. Some, if given the chance, would find ways to make sure they could never again perform these atrocities. Werewolves and humans, alike, who had been injured in the fight, were disposed of with impartial justice by the Lycan. The werewolves who had survived were rounded back up and leashed. Nearly a hundred had died in the attack. The residents of Harbor’s Town had suff cTowhadered far worse. What remained of the settlement was huddled in the town center, in a small, steeple-capped structure that served as the religious and governmental headquarters such as it was. There was a minor skirmish as the Lycan broke through the doors, two old men with pitchforks tried to keep them at bay.

The fight was over before Xavier strode over. Women, children, and the infirm were pushed into the far corner as four Lycan closed in.

“Take the women and anyone of middling years or greater, throw them in the cages with the other infected,” Xavier said, his guttural language not understood by the congregation.

“The rest?” one of the herders asked.

“Is it not feeding time?” Xavier asked as he strode out.

It was midday when the Lycan left a smoldering Harbor’s Town. The crying as mothers mourned for their lost children was compounded upon by the cries of the ones that harbored the guilt for bringing this calamity upon them.

I was down from the small enclosure almost at the same time the moon crested below the tree line.

“Time to pack,” I said to Azile as I helped her down the ladder.

“Just because nothing happened here, does not mean something did not happen,” Azile said, seemingly angry that she had been proven wrong from the events.

She was not really seeing the bigger picture that, if she had been right, many people would have died last night. Could be part of the reason she was named the Red Witch, but I sure wasn’t going to say anything.

Bailey met us as she came down from one of the other towers. She looked exhausted. “Do not leave until I talk with the council. They will convene within the next few hours.”

I didn’t personally see the necessity in waiting, the sooner we were out of here the sooner I could go back to wherever I was going back to. The world now had Lycan, Werewolves, and whatever Watchers were, I should have stayed in Maine.
Right now, that sounded like the best idea. The Micmac sounded like right good neighbors at this point.

The council did convene before noon, but whatever they were talking about was now running into the dinner hours.

“They wish to talk to you,” Bailey said, coming to get us.

I was lying on my bed pretending to rest. Azile kept staring out the window, perhaps looking for a sign. Maybe the Watchers, a one-eyed Raven, maybe even a black cat, I didn’t know.

“Then we can go?” I asked.

A haggard looking Bailey looked back at me.

***

“We received a rider,” the lead councilwoman said.

My blood chilled, I had only been kidding when I said Azile was looking for a sign…and now here it was. She had said the words so gravely, I knew whatever she said next would not be welcome news.

“Harbor’s Town has been attacked,” she added.

“How many casualties?” Azile asked.

“All of them.” The councilwoman was almost crying.

I was a little slow on the uptake, any casualty would be considered a death and would be thrown in there with ‘all of them.’ Unless, she was referring to how many had died. I wanted clarification.

“How many lived?” I asked.

“Not more than a handful, they fled to Wheatonville where the rider was dispatched from,” she said burying her face in her hands.

“How is that possible? We were just there,” I said to Azile. “Has to be fifty miles. He must have pushed that horse hard.”

“We now know where the Watchers were headed.”

“Hope they had a great show,” I said, more than a little pissed off.

“It was exactly as you had said it would be…hundreds of werewolves handled by their Lycan masters. They took the survivors and killed the children. Slaughtered and ate them in the church.”

Azile turned away.

“What must we do?” the councilwoman asked. “They would have decimated our city had they attacked here last night instead of Harbor’s Town.”

“What you should have been doing the first time I came before you!” Azile spat. “Do you think I roam the countryside crying wolf because I seek attention? I should have forced you into action. That will be something I will have to live with. You and this council
, on the other hand, will have to live with your own inaction. I will be back before the third full moon. If I am not, I have been lost. Either way, you must improve your defenses, train your people, and seek out other cities to build an army the likes of which this new world has never seen.

“It’s always war,” I said as we hit the road once again. “That is the nature of man. If not the Lycan threat, one town would feel another was using some of their resources…whether it was land or water. Or perhaps gold will be rediscovered in one of these mountains and there will be a dispute. Man knows no other way, Azile. Why are you in such a rush to preserve that?”

“I still have my soul, Michael,” she said, turning towards me.

“Well
, that was just a low blow,” Bailey said to me. Azile kept riding.

“I know, right?” I said back.

“I do not see why I must go back home,” Lana entreated for at least the twentieth time.

I
, for one, would be happy to drop her ass off. I felt like a letch every time she looked at me.

“We have been through this, Lana,” Azile said, trying to soothe Lana’s ruffled feathers. “You must convince your father to join with humanity.”

“The riders have been krs ers. sent. What more can I add?” she pleaded.

“You are his daughter, your word carries weight. You will have firsthand knowledge.”

“I have no such thing,” Lana replied.

“You will,” Azile told her.

“We’re going to Harbor’s Town?” I asked Bailey, overhearing Azile’s words.

“It would appear that way. I believe she wishes to convince more than just the girl.”

“How much of BT do you have in you?” I asked, looking her up and down.

As we rode, I passed a pouting Lana who would not even look my way. That was actually an improvement. I caught up to Azile’s lead.

“Why?” I asked.

“That’s a very broad question, Mr. Talbot. Are you asking why I kissed you?” she asked with a smile.

“Are you trying to get me knifed in the back?” I looked back, making sure Lana didn’t hear.

“We are shielded
. She has not heard.”

“How powerful are you?”

“We will see. I believe my biggest tests are yet to come.”

***

Birds circled the town in great concentric circles. The stench was one with which I was all too familiar. Smoke drifted up from a dozen different areas. Huge swaths of blood blanketed entire walls of structures that still stood. Bodies were strewn about in all manner of pose, with no sanctity for the dignity of the essence the shell once housed. Men were eviscerated, some still clinging to their hemorrhaging innards. Throats were ripped out; bodies were torn in half as if they had been frayed ropes in a tug of war that had finally given out. Some held ineffectual farm implements as weapons; most were unarmed.

“This was a wholesale slaughter,” I said, stepping over a headless boy.

“They did not even feed,” Tommy said.