“Shut your mouth, right now,” said Daniel. “That’s an order.”
The man nodded and obeyed.
“What do we do?” asked Gregory, lowering his voice to just above a whisper.
“If there’s that many, they aren’t here to watch. Can’t armor ourselves, otherwise every man tossed overboard drowns.”
“I say pass swords around, low and out of sight. And we need to do it fast. I see the eyes no more.”
“Have they left?” Daniel asked.
“No,” said Gregory, kneeling beside the closest chest and removing the latch. “They went into the water.”
“Pull back your lanterns,” Daniel ordered his men, and they did so. Gregory started sending swords down the boat, arming the east side first. “Take what we’re giving you, and don’t act up about it. We got eyes watching us, and Ashhur knows how intelligent they are, and how much they can understand. Jon, Letts, you keep watching for a dock, any dock. Everyone else, scan the river.”
Daniel drew his own sword and laid it across his lap, comforted by its weight. If the wolf-men assaulted their boat, there were advantages for either side. The wolves would have surprise, and they’d close the distance without fear of arrows or defensive formations. They’d be slowed by the water, though, and vulnerable trying to climb into the boats. Assuming they tried to climb them, anyway. They were strong, and if they were many, they might be able to overturn their vessel. If that happened, they soldiers would be easy prey.
“Wait for a signal,” Gregory said, a sword at his side and a torch in his hand. “A wolf pack won’t attack until they get a signal.”
The night had gone unnaturally silent. Even the men of the boat were quiet, no longer joking, calling out what they thought might be a deer, stone, or dock. No, they were watching, waiting, cold steel in their hands. Fighting wolf-men without armor, they faced a horrible challenge. Those claws could shred their skin like cloth. Those teeth could rip their limbs from their bodies. Daniel had fought wolf-men plenty in his years guarding the Wedge, but never like this, never ambushed helpless upon the water. And why were they there? The implications were just as frightening as their current situation. To have so many near the Gihon, watching, patrolling even…
From the far bank came the howl, and with that, the water on either side of their boat erupted with claws and teeth. The wolf-men lashed out at them, clawing at the wooden sides and hoisting their bodies upward. With their dark fur wet and matted, they were blacker than the night, just flashes of yellow eyes and eager claws.
Daniel saw two paddling at the rear of the boat, and he lunged with his sword at the first. It lashed up at him, but its paw went wide. His blade slashed its arm, and it yipped in pain, its swimming no longer enough to keep pace. Daniel grinned at the thought of its blood pouring into the river. The second grabbed hold of the rudder, its claws easily sinking in. When Daniel tried to stab it, its teeth snapped back, and startled, he nearly lost his sword.
To his right, a wolf-man lunged high enough to grab the side and pulled itself up. Gregory struck it with his lantern, the light blinding it. His sword pierced its chest, and kicking it off, it fell atop another wolf-man trying to climb in.
“The lantern!” Daniel cried. Gregory tossed it to him. Swearing, Daniel caught it near the bottom, where the heat was greatest. Gritting his teeth to ignore the burning of his hand, he shone its light into the eyes of the wolf- man climbing the back. It snarled, its eyes shut, and then he flung the lantern. The metal struck it in the face, the liquid and fire spilling across its snout. Down it went into the water.
Whirling, Daniel took in the battle before him. The boat rocked unsteadily beneath his feet, both sides buffeted by the many bodies either climbing aboard or falling away. He couldn’t count the wolf-men, they were both too many and too hidden. His men were dying. Blood soaked the floor of the boat, mixing with puddles of water. They fought bravely, though, and he felt his heart swell with pride. So far none had panicked, and they stabbed and bled in the darkness like true warriors.
“Beat them back!” he cried, joining Gregory’s side. The two slashed at another wolf trying to grab the side, slicing off three claws before it slipped away. With a scream, one of his men went tumbling off the boat, his weak thrust missing, his arm grabbed and pulled. Where he fell became a dark thrashing of water, and then they saw no more. Two more men died, a wolf-man making it into the boat and slashing wildly before soldiers dove upon it, accepting its claws to pierce their blades through its heart. The screams of their pain echoed across the river.
The boat suddenly lurched eastward, accompanied by a deep thunk. Again came a lurch.
“They’re guiding us to the Wedge!” someone shouted.
“The poles!” Daniel roared. “Grab the poles!”
They had four poles to push and guide the boat. The first two they plunged into the water snapped as wolf- men grabbed hold of them and bit with their strong teeth.
“Stab the water!” Gregory cried, rushing to the east side and thrusting downward, where several wolf-men had gathered, no longer trying to climb and instead swimming with their heads low and their bodies pushing.
“We hit ground we’re dead,” Daniel said, grabbing another of the poles. “Now push like your life depends on it!”
The wood groaned in his hand, he heard the yelps of the wolf-men at their side, but at last the pressure relaxed. Once more the boat angled not to the Wedge but instead the opposite side.
“I want off this damn river!” Jon shouted.
“Amen!” cried Daniel.
The last of the wolf-men along the eastern side fell back, the last two poles touching bottom and pushing. Several others grabbed oars, and they rowed toward safety. There was no dock, no landing. They rammed their boat along the rocky shore and then rushed onto dry land with shaky legs.
Exhausted and shivering, Daniel looked out to the river. He saw pairs of eyes watching him from the far side, but not many. It seemed no others gave chase.
“They coming after?” asked Jon.
“Don’t look like it,” said Daniel. “But we have a long night to go. Get our gear, all of you. Let’s put some armor on. If they decide they want to fight, by god, we’ll give them one.”
While they unloaded the chests, he took count of their losses. Of their original twenty, only eleven remained, counting himself. Nine men, dead or lost along the river. He did his best not to think of it, instead issuing orders and gathering up those who were left.
“How will we find Durham?” asked Gregory, sliding up beside him.
“We’ll follow the river south,” he said. “Worst comes to worse, and we passed Durham during that mess, we’ll eventually reach tower Gold.”
“We don’t have much food.”
Daniel nodded toward a pair of bows his men were unloading from one of their chests.
“We’re in the wild now,” he said. “We’ll hunt if we must.”
“While we ourselves are hunted?”
He looked east, those yellow eyes still watching.
“Then we’ll see who is the better hunter,” Daniel said.
I t was all a dream. Jerico knew it was a dream, knew with a certainty that frightened him, for normally that understanding would spur him awake. Instead, the vision continued, with a power and clarity that deepened his fright.
Before him loomed the Citadel, the great tower of Ashhur. Behind it were its docks, and they burned. At its gates he saw a hundred of his brethren. They cried out the name of their god, and their swords shone with the light of their faith. Fighting them were legions of undead. They reached beyond the limits of his vision, for he felt like a raven flying over the battlefield. The undead fell by the scores, but still they came. Jerico’s heart soared at his brethren’s skill. They would win. Despite the numbers, they would overcome the dead, for they were strong in faith and full of song.
The ground shook, a lion let loose a great roar, and then the Citadel fell.
It crumbled into pieces, its lower foundations breaking at the sides. As it fell, the top half tilted to the right, the heavy dark stone slamming into the ground and tearing free huge chunks of earth. The sound was deafening. Even in his dream he felt his ears ache, and the shockwave of its fall thudded into his chest. The army of paladins below felt it all the more keenly. The light of their weapons, once bright and unshakeable, dwindled. The undead let out a cry, and they charged anew. This time they did not fall so quickly. This time, the paladins did not sing out
