The Iron Wolves (17 page)

Dek stood in the trees, listening to the darkness. It began to snow, and a sideways breeze made the snow hiss against dry, brown, winter leaves. He crunched forward until he came to a clearing, a former campsite. Logs had been dragged around a central fire pit and Dek sat on one of the logs, stretching out his long legs. A break in the clouds above allowed shafts of moonlight to fall through the snow, illuminating him. He smiled and imagined his mother was looking down from heaven.

“Can I join you?”

“I knew he’d send the woman.”

“I’m not just any woman.”

“I
know
that.” But he patted the log beside him and Kiki moved forward, hand on her sword hilt, boots crunching through a thin layer of snow and frozen dead pine needles.

“It’s getting too cold to camp out,” she observed, making conversation. Dek was a huge, threatening bulk beside her.

“Dalgoran says we’ll camp at Skell Fortress tomorrow night, if the snow continues.”

Kiki shivered. “I think I’d rather freeze to death.”

“Don’t be foolish, woman.”

“Woman, is it?” grinned Kiki, drawing a long knife with a hiss of steel. “Once, I would have thrown
you
from the battlements for a comment like that. Broken your leg. Cut off a finger. I didn’t earn Captain of
this squad
without cracking a few big dumb skulls.”

Dek turned towards her, his face painted white, ghostly, in the moonlight, in the snow. She tried to read his features, but could not. A long silence developed between them, until Dek leant a little closer and she felt the warmth of his body.

“You used to love me,” he said, gently.

“I still love you,” said Kiki. “Despite being just
a woman.
”

“Ha. Always a quick joke to avoid what needs to be said. You were always this way.”

“Really? Well, I remember giving my heart and soul to you, and I remember you betraying me. And not just me: Narnok. Your sword brother. Your blood brother.”

Dek remained silent, and then lowered his head, rubbing his face with both hands.

“How did it get so messed up?” he said.

“You messed it up,” said Kiki, regretting the words the minute they passed beyond her lips. She cursed herself, and felt Dek stiffen. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. It was a long time ago. Best to forget.”

She thought about the honey-leaf, then. Her addiction. Contemplated her own betrayal; more subtle, but still a betrayal of her unit, her lover, herself.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dek moved close in the darkness, and reached towards her, and she placed a hand flat on his chest but did not push him away. He came close, and kissed her, and his lips were unexpectedly soft, his kiss surprisingly tender.

He pulled away.

“Don’t get any ideas,” said Kiki.

“I needed that. Our parting words were… harsh.
Your
words were harsh.”

“I’m sorry. Actually, no, I’m not. You slept with Narnok’s
wife,
Dek. You abused his trust and mine. You broke us all up. You killed the Iron Wolves more effectively than Morkagoth ever could.”

“It was a seduction,” he said softly, large eyes filled with sadness. “She drugged me. I was out of my mind. And I never meant any of what followed.”

“Have you seen Narnok? Since it happened?”

“No.”

“Have you seen what she
did
to him? What those bastard mercenaries did to his face?”

“No. But I heard.”

“Hearing isn’t enough,” said Kiki. “But you’ll see. You can apologise firsthand to his fucked-up face. That’s if he doesn’t kill you first, of course.”

“I’m a hard man to kill,” said Dek.

“We’re all hard to kill; that’s why we’re Wolves.”

Dek stood, a sudden movement. “I still love you, Kiki. We’ve been apart… too long. We can leave. Leave this place: now. Saddle our horses and simply ride away. We don’t need no trouble. We don’t need another battle, another war.” He came close, kneeling before her, bathed in moonlight, shoulders dusted with snow. “I’ll take you away, Kiki, to the mountains. Build you a cabin. We can live out our years together. It’ll be like we were never apart, like none of those bad things ever happened.”

“We can’t. Dalgoran needs us. He has a dream, a vision.”

“Big swinging horse bollocks to his vision! We have a right to happiness, Kiki. We did our fighting for Vagandrak, for Tarek. We spilt blood and cracked skulls and gave everything to rid the land of Morkagoth. But you know what I learned? Nobody truly gives a damn. The people, I mean. Those bastards I supposedly fought for. Ungrateful fucking City Watch; moaning teachers, shit-spouting academics, back-stabbing politicians; even the fucking farmers! Happy for us to do the dying. Not so happy if we needed their bloody help. I learned it real fast, Kiki. As long as they all have their warm beds, their ale and wine, soft open legs and one another to rut with, snotty nosed children to care for, they just get on with it, and leave the killing and the dying to the likes of us. We’re fools, Kiki. We need to get out of this life. Out of this world. We’re too old for this horse shit. What I’m trying to say, is, that I always loved you, even through the long lean years, and I always will love you. You’re my soul mate. I should never have let you slip through my fingers. And now it’s time; now it’s time to retire, and let others do the fighting. And the dying. Especially the dying.”

Kiki stared up at him, bathed white and pure. In this light, on this evening, she could see past the scars and broken features. She could see the young man again, giggling with her on the first wall of Desekra, Sanderlek, whilst they waited for the enemy horde. Young, foolish, full of their own legend-to-come.

He wants you,
whispered Suza, a black snake in the night grass.
You should take him. Use him. Get rid of him. You’ve done it a hundred times before. Piss him away, in the same way he discarded you.

No! That’s not how it happened!

It’s exactly how it fucking happened. I was there. I saw everything.

How could you possibly be there?

I’ve always been a part of you, Kiki. We came from the same broken egg. Sisters. Twins. Only you got all the luck, all the breaks, all the favours from father; I was left to rot and burn and crumble. And then, when I lost my
…

Don’t start with the sympathy shit again. Why can’t you leave me in peace? I want to be at peace!

I will make a pact with you
, said Suza, words a gentle caress. Like a blade kissing a sleeping throat.

Go on.

When you are no longer an Iron Wolf, then I will leave you alone.

That’s a hard ask.

I’m a hard bitch.

I noticed. A traumatised one, too. Well, how about this? I’ll put up with your constant whining, your reluctance to let go of the past, your exaggeration of anything petty and bad that ever happened to you, and when I finally die, and I see you in the Halls of Chaos, or the Furnace, or wherever the fuck Den of Hell I end up… well, I’ll stamp out your teeth and break your skull and send you to oblivion. How does that sound, sister bitch?

“I’m going back to the fire,” said Kiki, shivering.

“Stay with me. Come away with me.”

“No. Dalgoran needs me. He is like a father to me.”

“And I can be a husband to you. And a father to your children.”

He turned and she looked up into his face. He doesn’t know, she realised. But then, only Dalgoran knew, and if he blabbed it to cheap whores and word got around, she’d cut his throat like all the other scum who’d abused her. No. Dek didn’t know. How could he know? She stared at the hard brutal features. Once, he’d been ruggedly handsome. Now, he was just rugged. She could live with just rugged.

“I’m dying,” she said, softly.

“What?”

“I have a cancer. Inside me.”

“Have you seen a doctor? A surgeon?”

“Of course I have, Dek,” she said, and stepped in close, putting her head to his chest, holding the big man. “They can do nothing.”

“Who did you see? Did you see Corialis of Vagan? He used to tend the King. I have money.” He thought about this. “I can
find
money. As much as you need. I can help you, Kiki. We’ll get you the best!”

“Remember all that gold showered over our heroic heads by King Tarek? I already paid for the best, Dek.” She took his hand, pressed it to her breast. “They cut me open. Here. To remove the growth. But it was too close to my heart. They said to remove the cancer would be to kill me on the operating table. And so they sewed me back up and it’s there, growing, poisoning, consuming: eating me from the inside out.”

Dek pulled away and stared down at her face. Snow settled on her upturned gaze. “That cannot be, Kiki,” he said, with great gentility.

“It’s a hard fact. So, I would ask you, Dek, in all and total unfairness, having laid this great news at your feet, that you do me several favours.”

“Anything, Kiki. I’d do anything for you.”

“Make an effort with your brother, Ragorek.”

Dek remained silent, though his teeth ground together.

“Make an effort with Narnok, when we see him; no matter what your reasons, in his eyes you stabbed him in the back. You betrayed his friendship, his brotherhood and his love.”

“And the third?”

“Come with me. Follow Dalgoran. Let’s see where this adventure leads. But together. I want you by my side again, Dek. I’ve been alone for too long.”

He leant forward and he kissed her. And she sank into his embrace.

The snow was coming down thick and fast. Dalgoran was pushing a fast pace, and Ragorek cantered up beside Dek, horses kicking through snow. “He’s a hard bastard for such an old bastard.”

“Tougher than you could ever know,” grunted Dek, eyes straining to see through the thick flurries. “By all the gods, this snow will be the death of us.”

“We are fools to still be on the road.”

“Dalgoran reckons it’s another hour and we should hit Skell Fortress; haunted, empty shit-shell that it is. But still. A broken roof and crumbling walls are better than another night in the open. I could barely sleep last night!”

“Because of the cold, or because of the extra warmth?”

Dek eyed his older brother. “Don’t get smart, fucker, or I’ll knock out some more teeth.”

“Ahh, your friendly banter is ever a tonic for this winter chill.”

They rode in silence for a while. Finally, Ragorek said, “Listen, Dek, I wanted to explain something. I want to…”

“No.” Dek held up his hand. “Let’s stop there. The fire burned hot and took her away. Let’s leave it there; draw a line in the sand and walk forward from this point on. How does that sound, Rag?”

“It sounds good, brother.”

Dek nodded, and they both returned gazes to the trail.

“You have been to Skell Fortress before?”

Dek nodded.

“Isn’t it… haunted?”

“Worse than haunted, brother; Skell carries the souls of demons. It’s a real bad place, through and through,” and with those words he huddled under his cloak, and tried to ignore the cold, the wind, the ice and the snow.

Wind screamed across the land. Night had fallen. Thick snow swirled in a harsh blizzard. Skell Fortress, a thousand years old, at least; crumbling, abandoned, it loomed from the snow and dark with a shocking suddenness and a distressing, massive oppressiveness. As if it were some great and terrible beast that would suddenly reach out, plucking them from their mounts and crushing them totally.

Cowering against the weather, they plodded under the massive entrance archway where once a huge gate had stood. Now, its tattered, shredded remains hung from rusted iron hinges thicker than Dek’s waist, and did little to block the gathering snow drifts.

Kiki stopped just within the arch. She’d heard the stories of Skell Fortress. Or Skell’s
Folly
as it had become known; but had never visited this supposedly haunted relic. Until now.

It was big.

No.

It was
huge
. Bigger than any fortress had a right to be.

Kiki’s head lifted back, chin tilting to the dark heavens as she surveyed the massive, vast array of towers and bulkheads, walls and blocks and warehouses. Desekra Fortress guarding the Pass of Splintered Bones through the Mountains of Skarandos was BIG; four walls and a keep BIG. Skell had only one surrounding wall and a central keep, but its vast vertical size was something to blow a soldier’s mind.

“What was it guarding against?” she said, words whipped away by the dog-snapping wind.

“Who knows?” said Dek.

“But… here. Beside the marshes. There is nothing worth guarding.”

Dek nodded. “Maybe the landscape changed?”

“Or the mountains grew legs and shuffled away? Who would build such a thing? Here, on a flat plain, on the edge of the Rokroth Marshes. What’s the damn point?”

“They had a reason,” said Dalgoran, looming from the darkness. He kicked from the saddle and boots thumped old, weathered cobbles. “Or they wouldn’t have put in so much effort. Come on. We can stable the horses up here.”

“And build a fire,” said Dek, shivering. Not because of the cold. Dek could stand the cold. This was more to do with the… ambience. An umbrella of protection. From… bad things.

Kiki dismounted, and calming her horse, walked the mare towards the low-lying stable block ahead. Again, age-old stone, a thatched roof that had almost caved in and was bowed under a weight of thick, glistening snow.

They stabled the horses, each in silence and thinking strange thoughts. For Kiki, she contemplated the walls of the stable as a starting point. The whole structure of Skell Fortress felt…
wrong.
Wrong in her skin, her flesh, her bones, her brain. It was subtle, she had to admit; like a gentle infusion. But it was there, tugging at the corners of a person’s mind; at their vision, and twisted imagination. There was something deeply
wrong
about Skell Fortress.

Rubbing his horse with a handful of straw, then settling a blanket in place, Dek listened to the howling wind, and the over-bearing silence of fallen snow, then cocked his head at Kiki. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s subtle, I’ll grant you, but something is out of place here; out of joint with the world.”

Kiki wanted to disagree, but found she couldn’t. She felt light-headed, like the time she came around from the operating table and found a cluster of doctors, surgeons, nurses, tending her. Bright lights. Feeble excuses. A surreal experience; not of this world.

Without speaking, she stepped from the stable block and simply stared.

The wall was high and thick, gloss black, some sections crumbled away forming huge Vs of erosion. The original stone masonry was exquisite; or would have been in its day. Even now, many hundreds of years later, it gave a feeling of solidity, robustness, so if this place had to be held against the enemy, it would still have the…

Mass, she decided. The word was
mass.

“What are you thinking?” asked Dek, stepping out beside her, his arm snaking around her waist.

“I’m thinking the walls are not straight.”

Dek stared. “By all the Gods, I think you’re right!”

“You
think?
Look at them! A blind man could make out the irregularities. But do you know what’s really strange?”

“Go on.”

“I think it was by design. I think Skell Fortress was built this way.”

Dek stared long and hard at the subtle, disjointed walls. Angles were not quite right. Nothing obvious, but it seemed like the whole place had
shifted
slightly. Was maybe built on soft foundations. But there were no cracks, no breaks, no missing mortar.

“But… why?”

Kiki frowned, and brushed snow from her long leather coat. “How the hell should I know? I’m just an unwilling observer. But it’s weird. Everything is out of place. Every joint and angle is just that little bit wrong. Like Skell was built in a different time; in a different world.”

Dek held on to Kiki’s words as they moved across a vast courtyard that was insanely proportioned; far too large to be practical. It was more of a…

“Killing ground,” said Kiki, filling in Dek’s blanks.

He grinned, and slapped her on the back. “I like a girlfriend who takes in the details and understands military strategy.”

“Girlfriend?” The words held more ice than the entire battlements of Skell Fortress.

“Well, you know, you are my… friend, and you’re…”

“A girl? Really? Dek? Are you truly that goat dumb?”

He slapped her on the back again, dislodging some snow, and gave a laugh like a short bark. “I could call you my wife, but then I’d have to marry you.” He grinned, showing several missing teeth.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Er… yes?”

Tossing her head and carrying her saddle, Kiki stalked away, disappearing down a wide avenue of massive stone blocks, all of which had been cut at irregular angles and yet which still fitted together perfectly, despite the centuries. Dek stood, looking confused for a moment before General Dalgoran came up behind him.

“Son, you’ll give up your whole life trying to understand them.”

“Am I being a simple sheep herder, here? I studied military tactics under Szen Thu!”

“Ahhh,” said Dalgoran, knowingly. “This is the Art of Women, not the Art of War. And I’ll give you five big gold pieces if you can decide which one is the more complex.”

“War?” suggested Dek, and grinned again, wiping snow from his nose. “Come on, Dalgoran. I’ll buy you a drink in the mess.”

“I’ve a feeling your money’s no good here.”

Dek scowled. “With my reputation, my money’s no good
anywhere.
”

“This is a bar full of ghosts.”

“I don’t care! As long as there’s some hard liquor!”

Kiki, yawning, padded down long stone corridors after Dalgoran. He still wore his armour and his sword was sheathed at his hip. He carried a fire brand, the light of which cast deep shadows on damp stonework. He turned, smiling at Kiki, face lit like a demon, and she returned with a tilt of the head, and a questioning smile of her own.

“We must go to the chapel,” he said.

“But it’s the middle of the night, General.”

“I need to show you something.”

The walls contained large patches of damp and were covered with black mould and green moss. Underfoot, the large stone flags were uneven, buckled, bent, and Kiki traced her fingers down a rough hewn block wall. Again, the angular cuts fitting perfectly together. She frowned. It would take an absolute genius to cut such stonework. That, or an absolute madman.

They reached an archway, and a terrible cold draft cut through. Water dripped. A wooden mantle had warped and swollen, bulging with a bright white fungus. Kiki ducked warily under the bloated wood, and they entered a narrow corridor with a sandy floor which led steeply downwards.

“This way.”

Firelight danced from the walls as they passed a hundred recessed alcoves bearing small, magnificently carved statues, angels on one side, demons on the other. The corridor ended after a hundred paces and Kiki got a real, tangible impression she was underground and the sheer vast
mass
of the old fortress squatted above her, threatening to collapse and bury her alive. She shuddered and something deep in her soul, some primeval fear, went
click.

They reached a door. This time, there was no damp, no infiltration of water or fungus. It was bone dry and Dalgoran pulled a large iron key from beneath his leather coat. He slid it into the lock and it turned with the tiniest of neat snicks. The door, a good foot thick, swung silently open.

Kiki ducked a little, peering inside as Dalgoran moved forward and went around the circular chamber, lighting brands set in stone brackets. Kiki stared in wonder. The floor was bare stone, the walls hung with fabulous intricate tapestries, twelve feet in height and showing battles and conquests from Elder Days. There was a small, discreet stone altar, very basic in design, and low stone pews in double rows leading back from the altar to where she stood. The whole chamber felt… Old. Pagan. From Before Times.

And then she looked up, and her awe was complete. The entire arched roof was lined with precious stones of all types: emeralds, rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and the criss-crossing arched beams were inlaid with beaten gold. As Dalgoran lit the brands, and fires blazed, so the ceiling sparkled and glowed and light swept in patterns across the… words.

“What does it say?” asked Kiki, words no more than a whisper.

“
An haerarch Equiem
,” said Dalgoran, lighting the final brand and moving to the altar, where he placed the burning torch in the open mouth of a demon.

“Which means?”

“
In praise of the Equiem.
They were the Old Gods, Kiki. The
Bad Gods.
Or so it went.”

Kiki moved forward, and gave a little shiver. “Why are we here, Dalgoran?”

“I need to speak to Jagged. And to show you something.”

“Why
here
?”

“How can I explain this? There is magick, in the land, in the rocks and earth, in the seas and the mountains. Forget the tales of childhood, with sparks and streams of fire and glowing eyes and all that other horse shit; this is an
energy,
a dark energy, based on the four elements of the universe which complement one another, run in harmony. It oozes through the world, deep in the lines. It is a circuit, Kiki, and we can tap into it. One can use it; if one knows how.”

Kiki nodded. “I have dreamt about such things. A long time ago. When I was a child.” Dalgoran removed his coat and helm, placing them to one side. She watched him. “Is this dark energy safe?” she finally managed.

“Of course it isn’t safe,” he snapped, then checked himself. “We are dabbling with a great power, Kiki. Have you ever watched a fire consume a forest? Have you ever ridden the sea in a violent storm? Nature is awesome, violent, unpredictable. And this is a direct chainway to the Equiem; if they still exist, of course.”

“I thought they were just an ancient myth,” said Kiki, voice low.

Dalgoran, eyes hooded and masked by shadow, shook his head. “They lived, Kiki. Tens of thousands of years ago. They lived and they ruled. Not something you learn about in Vagandrak history, for the arcane Lore is illegal. Too much power and too much knowledge are a very dangerous combination, eh girl?”

Kiki nodded again, eyes shining. She had always worshipped Dalgoran; followed him as a general, despite the curse of the Iron Wolves, and listened to him like a father. But now she was learning there was more to the old man than she could ever know. He wasn’t just some old soldier in love with nostalgia and middle-aged has-been heroes; he was something unique. A part of the ancient
magick
…

Dalgoran drew his sword and approached the altar. He knelt on the single step and said three low words Kiki did not catch; then he stood and moved to the stone plinth and suddenly, in this light, in this place, to Kiki’s already sparked imagination she realised it was not a table; not a
table
, oh no. It was a sacrificial altar. A place of death and energy and channelling and magick.

Dalgoran lifted the sword, gripping the pommel, blade a vertical shimmering totem carved with ancient runes from the general’s considerable ancestry. Only then did Kiki see the brass circle in the floor before the altar’s platform.

Dalgoran inserted the point of the blade into the slot, and with great care, lowered the sword until only the hilt was visible. But still he gripped the weapon, with both hands, his muscles trembling. Kiki waited patiently, but nothing happened. After a few minutes she began to grow impatient, and realised a slow cold was creeping into the chapel. She began to shiver, and realised her toes inside her boots were frozen.

“Dalgoran?” she asked, quietly.

There was no response. She blinked, then realised ice was shining in his grey hair and beard.

She took a step towards him, wondering if this was normal; whatever normal was supposed to be.

Her boot slid on ice.

“Dalgoran?”

And then he spoke, voice loud enough to make her jump and seeming to boom around the hollow stone chapel.

“Jagged? Is that you?”

“It is I,” came the reply, but it was metallic; hardly the voice of a man.

“Have you reached King Yoon?”

“We are a day away. He is camped thirty miles east of Drakerath with thirty thousand infantry and a thousand archers. If we are right about the mud-orcs, then he could support Desekra. With forty thousand men in total on the walls, we would stand a much better chance. All depending on how many of the filthy bastards are coming our way, of course.”

“Make a strong case, Jagged.”

“Be sure, Dalgoran, I will. Have you found the Wolves?”

“Kiki and Dek. We go now for Narnok.”

“I hope you’re right about them.”

“I am right.”

Dalgoran went silent, hands trembling on the sword’s pommel. Then he spoke, more quietly now. “Kiki? Go in my coat pocket. There’s a pouch. Bring it to me.”

She did as she was bid, shivering now, her own hair filled with ice. The pouch was leather and contained… something soft. Organic. Like meat. She carried it to Dalgoran, and he held out one hand.

She tipped the contents into his palm, and almost recoiled. It was a dark meat, containing skin, tufted fur, and a small fragment of bone. Dalgoran closed his fist around it, then suddenly turned, looking at Kiki. “Come here, hold the sword’s pommel with me. We will look into the future together. We will see where this beast originated.”

Every atom in Kiki’s body wanted to scream a refusal, but ever the soldier, she obeyed Dalgoran’s command. Climbing onto the altar, she knelt in the ice and grabbed the sword with both hands, covering Dalgoran’s large fingers with her own.

“Now close your eyes,” he said, and drifted into words from ancient language that were soft, musical, but turned slowly harsh and guttural. Kiki felt goosebumps scatter across her flesh, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up good and hard.

“We will see, we will see…” he said,
and Kiki found herself drifting, and looking out from alien eyes onto a world that seemed different, curved around a small globe, corners shining, and she was running with a pack, and glancing left and right she saw other huge horse creatures, twisted, broken, bent, deviated: huge equine heads stretched wide open showing row upon row of razor fangs… and they were screaming, the horses were screaming, and she realised she was screaming with them as they thundered on broken hooves out from the borderland and onto the plains before Desekra. Dawn was breaking, winter sun streaming over high mountain ridges gleaming with black rock, snow and ice, and she ran, huge muscles pumping beneath her so she was in a flood, a huge dark flood of screeching, drooling mud-orcs…

She let go of the sword with a start, and gasped, coughing, leaning forward on her knees as Dalgoran withdrew the sword, which was now rimed with ice, and slid it into its sheath at his waist.

He stood, and reached down. Kiki took his hand, looking up at him in horror.

“Will that happen? Truly?”

“I do not know. With the flesh I held, we were linked: to the past, the present and the future. But at least it confirmed one thing. The mud-orcs
are
back.”

“How many?”

Dalgoran shrugged and turned, heading for the door. Then he stopped. Glanced back. “More than last time,” he said. “Come on. We need to reunite the Wolves. We are running out of time.”