Rule 23

Wolves Are Crafty & Expect Backstabs

Statement: Each of us, in this new world, seems to have a trigger. Mine was, is, slavers—not specifically the act of slavery. Callisto’s is her people, and apparently spiders. The thin white creature’s was noise. These are our weaknesses of character rather than of body—and this is interesting to me. Not specifically because it can be exploited—but because for all of us, these drives seem as powerful as the need to survive.

I can say for certain that I had never been so, violently opposed to slavery prior to this world. Is it the magic, the artifacts, or that I had never been given an opportunity prove to my ideals with a blade? What then, does that say of the world before this one—perhaps that anyone can become brutal given the right motivation?

“Now you will give me what you have stolen from me,” the werewolf said.

I stared blankly and could only coherently piece together two thoughts. The first was that a werewolf would probably drop interesting loot. The second thought was confusion on how such an ugly mouth could form English words.

“Give me back what is mine!”

Maybe having an upright neck and longer body let him speak. “Are you deliberately vague or prone to spouting baseless demands in hopes of—”

He waved a claw through the air. Yellow-eyed wolves yipped and dove across the stream toward me. Their claws gained a thick aura that resembled moonlight. My lips tightened in a frown as I curled both arms like a cage around my head.

Post Note: It’s a good time to admit that I’d fought enough behemoth-style monsters. They, we, all defended the same way, relying more on forearms and back muscles that are like iron, and attacked in the same manner, with brute force.

They were fast. Paws lashed out before the wolves even reached my location. Solid light spiraled off their claws and brightened the riverbed’s surroundings. I closed my eyes and tilted away as both shining attacks slammed into my arms.

Blinding light shone through my closed eyelids. My head swam. A wolf, I assumed, latched onto my ankle while the other struggled to get its teeth around my oversized forearm. I lifted the attacked foot and pivoted. The wolf on my arm lost its grip and flew across the river. The second held on.

I opened my eyes and felt dizzy, and the sharp pain near my foot. The second wolf had managed to dig in further. I bent at the knee and rammed my elbow straight through the creature’s skull.

It caved. I couldn’t feel the expected warmth of brain matter and my own pain seemed distant. My body swayed slightly and I kicked off the dead wolf. My vision blurred from the earlier bursts of light, but I could smell blood filling the air. Mixed in was hint of wet fur and pine that tingled my nose.

One of the wolves howled. I smiled but couldn’t see the enemy army of pathetic pelts.

“I find violence a perfectly suitable form of diplomacy,” I said. That wasn’t what I had meant to say. “Perhaps you should provide your minions with increased—”

The playful banter was cut off as creatures I couldn’t perfectly see bounded at me. I stepped toward them with my hands outstretched, cringed as I put too much weight on a leg and swiped at the wolves. One hand caught a wolf around its ribcage and reflexively squeezed. Bones popped. A sadistic chuckle came from deep in my belly even a foot slipped in the mud and my body went sideways.

My fist banged on the ground. “Fine! We’ll be uncivilized about this.” I swung wildly with the other arm sending a pouncing wolf flying. Over I rolled, crushing anything under my form before getting back on my feet.

The werewolf’s eyes were still in the same spot, meaning the worst had yet to come.

There were a few options but only one interested me. That was the wholesale murder of all these stupid wolves and their equally slobber-mouthed leader. Creatures ignorant enough to attack me were simply asking to be removed from existence.

I heard more than a few wolves circling the area. They were likely on all sides, seeking a weakness to exploit. The air smelled heavy with something like pepper. Blood, most likely. It annoyed me. The werewolf leader could be crushed in a bear hug, if he’d get close enough.

His minion wolves spun around me with their greater agility and at exposed flesh. My lumbering form turned to get at the newest attackers. They darted away.

“Kindly desist moving and be rendered horizontally compact!” I demanded while lunging for one of the flighty wolves. Two more pulled at my heels, saving their companion from being squished.

Post Note: Apparently, wolves dislike being turned into meat pancakes. Most creatures do. I suspect one day I’ll find a creature that does like it and will be utterly perplexed on how to proceed.

It hit me what was happening. They were learning how I attacked and adapting. These wolves, or their leader, were smart enough to change their methods. Apparently, they could function as a cohesive unit. Now I knew why Allegra and the others had avoided this group.

“You will become our feed and I will reclaim my artifacts from your corpse!” the werewolf leader shouted. He sounded close but I couldn’t pick him out from the other dark shadows. My vision was getting worse the more they tore at me. Teeth nipped every inch of exposed flesh, and given that I only wore pants, there was a lot of skin to choose from.

After a dozen useless lunges, I grabbed a fourth wolf, threw it on the ground, and brought my foot down. My heel twisted as if grinding out a cigarette butt. I couldn’t tell how many remained. There had been dozens before. They were slowly whittling down my defenses. Even with this tough hide I’d likely bleed to death after a few more minutes of being attacked.

My tricks were few. Peeling away the spell might give me more options but I’d still only had this form for a few days at most. Time was hard to keep track of without clocks or watches. If I could learn to swap them out in an instant it might be worthwhile. There had to be quicker ways to switch between my three forms.

Such irritations kept me busy while the wolves continued their hit and run tactics. I took steps toward the river, in hopes that getting them wet might make them uncomfortable or slow their movements. Dogs might wade into shallow water if they were the right breed, but these creatures might choose to jump over, limiting their avenues of escape. I didn’t know and running away wouldn’t work in this form.

Post Note: Also, worth reiterating; my current body was easily a size larger than normal ogres, but still smaller than the Ogre King. For the purposes of this fight, using prior world analogies, we are like a bear versus a lion. With a lot of other lions. And claws that shoot beams of energy with their swipes.

Moonlight beams slammed into my back. I tumbled forward and scooped up a handful of riverbed rocks. Water seeped through my fingers leaving behind muck and handful of decent throwing stones. I hurled them into a mass of moving darkness. That blob of fast moving fur yipped and I scooped up more dirt.

Pain aside, the fight interested me. I got to test this hulking body against creatures that were as fast, or perhaps faster, than Hawthorn’s form. Their tactics were worth using. Hit and run, bleed out larger creatures. I could go for the Ogre King’s Achilles and see if his had one real vulnerability. I simply had to survive.

Stones went everywhere. The tiny stream turned into a pool around my feet. More moonlight gobs hit me, making my ears ring and flesh itch madly. Worst of all, these ragged pants were falling off. Slightly less annoying, I couldn’t tell how many enemies were still floating around. I firmly told myself that if I lived, I’d never use Mister Underwood at night again. Unless I needed to, of course.

I reached into a pocket and grabbed the spell book awkwardly between two fingers. My third dug around inside the front cover for the red energy. The finger warmed. Strangely, that sensation stood out clearly from the other small tears all over my body.

“That is mine!” their werewolf leader shouted. What he meant or what he spoke escaped me.

The act of preparing an area of effect counter attack cost me. A dozen wolves rushed me at once. Snarls overrode any other sound. I rolled to keep them off while the heat in my hand built. Teeth latched onto my ear and I screamed like a little, giant, angry girl.

“Bad doggies!” I shouted.

Post Note: This is perhaps the most ineloquent thing to come out of my mouth as Mister Underwood.

I pushed them away with my free arm. Yips filled the air. I leapt up and came down with my fist, straight into the ground, intent upon catching them all in the blast. It connected with the ground. Earth rippled and shattered around me. Water splashed everywhere, including straight into my eyes.

The delightful sound of monsters being turned into experience orbs failed to fill the air. My heart sank and my weather indifferent body ran cold with a sudden chill.

I’d failed, for the first time, to smash monsters using my special move. The sensation left me dazed and my fist ached. My wounds weren’t closing. The wolves had done something to me, more than simple bites or attacks might warrant. They must have poisoned me. Leon might have called it a bleed. If Allegra had been here then she might have been able to cure the effect.

I almost wished for her assistance. That faint scent of baby powder came to mind. I couldn’t tell if the smell was real or if I imagined it. Ringing filled one ear as though a bomb had gone off and deafened me.

The wolves surely hadn’t pulled back already. No monster I’d fought ever ran away. None survived long enough to do so. They all died. They all fought until the bitter end. That meant they were out there, waiting for me to grow weaker as their bleeds or poisons made me unable to defend.

I readied my spell again. This time I’d wait until I knew where they were for sure. They may have been quick, but by letting the spell charge longer, it’d be more destructive. Making it impossible for them to escape.

The only problem was, I couldn’t figure out where they had gone. My ears barely functioned. My body wasn’t healing fast enough to make them work. While I calmly dissected the situation, part of me also froze in brief panic. It was only a few days ago that I’d lost both my legs and an arm in the explosion. Death hovered too close.

“You’ll give me what is mine or die!” The werewolf’s voice came from somewhere farther away. How far, I couldn’t tell without fully functional hearing. It sounded far but should have been within leaping distance.

Something glinted in my mostly obscured vision. I assumed it to be one of those damn condensed moonlight attacks and sprang toward the new target.

“You can’t escape me now!” I shouted in joy.

My legs surged with all the strength I could muster. They bent, pressed, and sent the rest of me flying fist first toward the brightening spot. My fist banged into something heavy and solid. Force rippled out, more than I’d expected. My cheeks flapped. The explosion popped my eardrums.

I stood, huffing, waiting for any tangible sign that a monster had suffered under my heavy attack.

There were more scents that the pepper of blood. I sniffed again, trying to get these distorted senses to work correctly. After a few breaths I could pick out more than dead wolves. The faint hint of polished metal and baby powder hung in the air.

My vision slowly cleared. Leon and Allegra stood in the distance, maybe thirty feet away. The area around them had been hit by the blast. Dirt showed signs of being torn away, stocks of grass and shrubs were bent in the wrong direction. He had his shield locked into place toward me.

They just stood there, glaring at me. Allegra with a frown and Leon with his eyes tightened to narrow slits. I could almost hear him preparing to shout, “Be purified, in the name of Mayor Kent” at me.

There were no wolves. None, aside from those I’d rendered deceased earlier in the fight. I slowly realized I’d struck Leon, mistaking his shield for the wolves’ moonlight ability. I’d been played like a fiddle by the werewolf. He’d howled from their direction and lured me into swinging my power ability the wrong way.

He lifted his hammer. I stared blankly. My mouth went slack with confusion and I froze as his daze spell hit me. Too late, I remembered that Callisto’s real name was Sarah.

“Sarah, no!” Allegra’s watery sounding words broke from behind Leon.

I slowly turned into an attack. Callisto’s matted hair and nearly naked body were wild with rage. She slid the sword toward my gut. I slowly put out a hand. Her blade brushed past the meager defense and slid into the wound that already had torn my stomach to pieces.

“I didn’t…” I tried to say that attacking them had been a mistake. My true target had been the werewolf. Honestly, I hadn’t even known they were anywhere near me. The piles of wolves had robbed me of my senses.

“I know,” she said. Or maybe she didn’t. Her words were too soft for me to hear.

My face tightened. Callisto’s blade jerked to the side. So many things were confusing me and it felt as though my mind was slipping away. There’d been too many fights back to back. I’d bled myself dry in the last week then gotten back up.

The strangest thing wasn’t her stabbing me. I accepted it from Little Shade and part of me had always known Callisto would stab me in the back again, given a chance. What truly struck me as odd, was the desire to take her with me. To make sure that if I was destined to suffer, that she would join me. To burn in whatever fantastic hell awaited sinners like me, together.

She tucked in close to my chest and whispered words that might have been, “It has to be this way.”

I leaned forward to bite her head off. Callisto dodged away from my attempt at mutual destruction, a trail of blue and black after images pacing behind her, there I stared.

Pain numbed but my body didn’t move right. In a detached way, I could only think of how Allegra’s drawings might reflect this scene.

A beautiful warrior clad in only chain mail, with a sword made of darkness in one hand would be the highlight. Her foe, a misguided and misshapen monster who only vaguely looked human. He, the monster. The smiling killer.

I grinned dumbly and slumped over on the cold ground. My fingers jerked as I tried to make a fist, while a leg worked to get back up. Then my body simply gave up. It stopped.

For some strange reason, now, I could feel the earth more than ever before. It was cold. It was warm. I couldn’t begin to explain how it could be both. The absence of sound made a difference. Maybe there was no longer enough blood to make my ears function.

As the world went black, I reminded myself that trust, was for fools.