The Furred Reich (11 page)

“There’s your ship, human. The one with the swan head on the bow, good luck.” A jackal pointed.

“Thanks! Thanks for your help,” Hans smiled and jogged up to the dock.

“Woah! You gotta wait for the cargo first!” the jackal said, putting a paw on Hans’ shoulder and pulling him back.

Men came down the bridge with sacks of grain atop big platforms, carrying them as if they were large pieces of furniture. Hans watched them as a warm gust of salty wind blew in his face. This sea journey might not be so bad.

Hans was the the first person to board the ship, with a long line of furres behind him. He stood on the deck and watched them file in. Most of them were a species he finally recognized; foxes.

The ship disembarked without so much as a word. Even still, For Hans it was a magnificent sight. He’d been to Hamburg and Kiel, but this felt so much more welcoming. Warmer, too. The sun’s rays bounced off that turquoise water and bathed everyone in warm sunlight. If only the others were here: Wollers or Wals, or anyone. They would probably be ecstatic. It would have been better with them, or even James, but today Hans was all by himself.

“Mom, why is that Human wearing potato mashers?”

A red-furred canine child pointed out at Hans. The mother scurried her boy away and avoided eye contact with Hans.

Deltia gradually faded from view and the monotony of the sea brought him back down into the cabin of that planked ship. At a time like this, there was only one good thing to do: Sleep. It was a pity that one couldn’t store up sleep for when the body couldn’t do so later.

Hans slept continuously, for the next few days only waking up to eat and relieve himself. His diet was just a few hard-tack vitamin biscuits from home and dried lamb meat. The jackal crew were friendly. The ‘foxen’ were anything but. Whenever Hans tried to ask one of them about the Messerschmitt, the foxen either ignored him or sneered at him.

After several days, chatter around him heralded their arrival to the North Continent. It was kind of funny: Disembarking from Deltia, every one of the passengers was leaning off the port, but hardly any of them were on deck as the boat sailed into Ostia’s docks, the brown-sand port that most of them probably called home.

Compared to where they had come from, Ostia was underwhelming. It was a line of sturdy docks, a storage silo and a brick-lain wall, all the same color as the sand. Hans squinted out and tried to determine the race of the figures going to and fro along the dock. As their vessel was pulled through the dark waters, Hans saw that the inhabitants of Ostia were indeed foxen.

With a soft thud the ship parked on the dock. A line of people began streaming out of the boat and two foxes in red stood at the end. Suddenly Hans wished he’d prepared better for the other side. His hands shook as he stood at the very end of the line. Slowly but surely the line got smaller and smaller, but unlike the people entering, Hans had no document. He wondered how they would react. Probably not well.

“Passbook or diplomatic entry…” The yellow-eyed foxen officer looked suspiciously Hans.

“I, uh, sorry. I didn’t know I needed anything.”

One of the other foxen turned around and headed for his post onshore.

“Please. I’m just looking for a comrade of mine, I won’t stay here if you don’t want me to.”

Like the others on the boat, this foxen ignored him. Hans wondered if they even understood what he was saying.

“I’m just looking to be with other humans. In, the Cottonwine Lands?”

Still no answer. Hans backed up onto the plank of the ship. The foxen grasped his hilted sword but still said nothing to Hans.

Where would they take him? Would he get out? Perhaps this was one of the places that enslaved humans. Hans pulled his weapon. The foxen twitched and reeled back as the human pointed that foreign barrel at him. There was only one way out of this.

A metallic chatter drummed out into the air, and the fox doubled over and crumpled up. Ahead was the wooden gate separating the port from the city. The gate was left open and Hans dashed for it.

About six other uniformed foxen heard the shots and came sprinting to the dock with corsairs in hand. Hans unstrapped a stick grenade and lobbed it a few good meters from the charging canines.

“RUN! It’s fire!”

They scattered, most of them retreating in the other direction. Then the blast went off. Hans didn’t look back to see what he had done, he just sprinted to the city wall. Those two wooden doors drew shut almost as soon as the grenade went off.

Hans unstrapped another stick-hand grenade and lobbed it to the door, causing the guard to panic and jump into his post. The explosion blew the doors apart in all directions. Hans pulled up his Mauser and shattered the glass at that guard post, just for good measure. His escape covered, he doubled down and bolted into the busy port town.

Chickens flew from carts and girls squealed as the strange human darted down narrow streets. Hans disappeared into the crowds and made his way toward a gate on the other edge of town. This gate was wide open, but two soldiers stood confused by the exit, as if they heard the explosion but didn’t get wind of what happened. They looked more interested in keeping people out than in.

Hans slipped between them and out of the gate, briskly walking along the clover-lined dirt trail that led to points unknown, trying his best not to arouse the guards’ suspicion.

“H-hey! Get back here!”

Master Sepp

Sepp Dietrich and the two wolfesses walked in the snow toward the setting sun. The girls led him through several forests and glades, and the three of them took turns carrying their fawn.

A young, grey-furred male wolf appeared from the trees at one point. The way he looked at them reminded Sepp of a dog he once owned. Like the girls, the male wore only animal skins. His body was painted with elaborate white markings.

“We’ve nothing for you!” Valvela growled at the male, who sunk back into the trees with a drooped tail.

They came upon a handful of others over the next couple hours; all wolves, and each of them male. Valvela had the same answer for all of them.

“Who were those other wolves?” Sepp turned to Valvela.

“Unknown. But they are not from our tribe.”

“Shouldn’t they be off fighting the Green Raiders? They look like they could be good warriors if they were all together.”

The girls looked blankly at Sepp.

“What I mean is, we could use their help.”

It’s not that simple,” Sabrae finally told him.

Valvela shook her head too. Sepp still didn’t understand their objection to his thinking.

“Every strong hunting party needs good men, right?”

Valvela stood up.

“Come Sabrae. This human does not wish to be our Alpha.”

Sabrae drooped her ears and looked to Sepp, then to her sister. The younger wolfess reluctantly stood up and walked away with Valvela.

Sepp watched the two sisters begin to leave into the cold night. Was Valvela angry with him?

“Wait…” Sepp got up and strode in front of the wolves.

“I’m from a different world that’s all. Uh, in my world only Humans can talk. I’ve never seen wolves like you and I don’t know your customs.”

That was true, and it was the best chance he had at keeping the girls around, which he wanted to do.

Sabrae looked up at him first, the royal blue markings along her thigh glowing gently. She smiled and her tail wiggled to and fro, and she looked at her big sister for approval.

“Then protect us from outsiders,” Valvela said.

“I will.”

So that’s how it was. Maybe these creatures ran in packs like the wolves in his world. Sabrae came over to his side.

“That’s good,” she giggled. “I never seen anyone else who can kill a Raider all by himself! We’d better keep him around!”

Sepp ignored Sabrae for a moment and stared into the older sister’s gray eyes. Valvela stared back, but her challenging expression flashed away when she looked down into the snow. Then she looked up with a polite smile. Dietrich hoisted the fawn up over his shoulders and motioned the girls to continue walking with him through the desolate woods.

“What name may we call you by, sir?”

“You can just call me ‘Sepp.’”

“Alright. Master-Sepp.”

Changing Lands

“We’re going back to Dalaam! And you’re gonna give those back!”

“No! You’re stupid! We gotta take everything we can!” Asril hissed back at Tanjung.

The stolen items in question were little triangles of rice wrapped in green bamboo. At the core were tender cuts of what had to be goat meat. Asril had sneaked the triangles into her old briefcase as they left Dalaam, despite the monkeys’ hospitality and help. The four of them now had plenty to eat for days and more, but it seemed to be at the cost of Tanjung’s friendship.

“We’re not going to continue together if you’re going to steal everywhere we go!” Tanjung shouted.

Hex turned around and shot both felines a stern glance. Tanjung then suffered in silence as the four of them continued on through what seemed like an endless mountain chain between themselves and the impregnable refuge of Ahuran.

As always, the landscape was shifting. Dalaam had been the most welcoming place by far. The monkeys gave an aura of tranquility that matched the narrow emerald valleys where they lived. The winding rice terraces quickly made way for arid pockets and dusty mountain trails. Unlike in the lowlands, races here shifted suddenly. One village was of monkeys, the next a sinewed but small breed of feline.

“They’re called Lynxes.” Hex’s steady voice tossed itself over them like a blanket. “And we’re coming to the Kasharki Kingdom.”

Hex seemed to know everything, and he was now leading the way. Asril was glad for that. “It’s this kingdom, then one more.” He called out.

“Are these people nice like the monkeys?”

“Not even close.” Hex brought out his map to show Tanjung. “See why? We’re basically skirting the realm of those tigers we encountered in Preena. That’s why these Lynxes are so paranoid.”

There were no caravans, and it would probably take forever to get through. Nobody ever let them stay for too long, either. On the good side, there was no sign or even talk of monsters.

The temples shifted, too. Until then, all the temples she’d seen were big, elaborate and with funny looking roofs, and people were in them all the time. But in Kashkari, the temples were small and usually no one was there, although there were statues of deities. Hex usually didn’t let them go in the temples to look for help.

Tanjung already picked up a short sword from a smithy. Asril herself was carrying a dagger all along, and Tari bought a similar weapon, too. Hex didn’t have any weapon. No knife or sword or anything, which was weird, but no one challenged the fox on it. Night went by slowly for Asril. It was hard to find sleep on an empty stomach, but sleep eventually came.

The first town appeared in the arid valley beneath them. It was a collection of red and white rectangles pressed together at the foot of the hill, and buildings got sparser as one’s eye followed them out, until they looked like no more than feeble imprints upon the sand.

Camp was any place off the road that was flat enough. Hex took one of the rice rolls and tossed it to Tanjung, who was setting up by the tent.

“Here, take it. They’re pretty good.” Hex said. Tari had already helped herself.

Tanjung cautiously unwrapped it.

“I’m sorry Asril. For getting mad at you.”

Asril huffed back at him.

Tanjung sat down by Hex after the tent had been erected.

“So… What’s the Kitsune land like?”

Their orange leader sighed. “Not good anymore. Monsters everywhere.”

“How’d that happen?” Tanjung asked.

Hex put down his cup. “It’s a bit of a story. Many years ago the monsters, greenskins mostly, were thrown into the desert by my people, some other furres, and, some others. The legend is that many people united against the Greenskins.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It was a long time ago. We threw them into the Talamakan Desert. We kept them from going east. Some of our other friends kept them from going west, into Tagarovsk. You know, the big forest. Well, together, we kept the monsters in the desert, fighting with themselves and killing each other.”

“So what happened?”

“Some things. We stopped hearing from our friends in the west. About a hundred years ago. Soon the Greenskins stopped fighting one another and came straight for us Kitsune. Even with our, uh, weapons, we couldn’t keep the Greenskins out by themselves. My house sent my newborn brother away right when the outbreak started.”

Tari perked her ears. “Why just your brother? Why not both of you?”

“Well… My family is one of the ruling Kitsune houses. They sent my brother away so that one of us could survive no matter what happened.”

The three of them looked at Hex. Now some of his story made sense.

Antwerpen

“Jochen? Hello?”

The line went dead a second after he saw a bright white flash in his mind’s eye. Sepp Dietrich knew he had some medical issues, but hallucinations were not supposed to be one of them.

The dazed Gruppenfuehrer inched the solid, black receiver away from his ear. Peiper’s voice had been absent for a moment now. Somehow, Sepp found himself transported from his improvised headquarters inside of a Belgian farmhouse, outside to the quiet desolation of the Ardennes Forest.

“Steiner!!! Wisch?!”

No response. He placed the earpiece down on the ringer, which still sat on a desk. Some other random things from the farmhouse were there, too: A Mauser, leaflets of bikini-clad girls ‘confiscated’ from the Americans, and the latest cable tape from Feldmarschall Rommel.

How did this happen? Did he get knocked out and wake up outside? If no one was around, then there was only one thing to do: March to the front all by himself. Someone there would be able to help him find the SS Panzerkorps.

Sepp strapped on the rifle and stepped into the snow, heading westward and hoping to meet some Walloonian civilians who would point him in the right direction. The usual throb of Anglo and American four-engine airplanes was absent from the winter skies as well. Perhaps the Luftwaffe had taken them out, but he knew better than to think that.