Return to Canifis

To him, I am no better than Sulla.

“Get him, or he will give us away,” Castimir urged.

Doric was the closest, and he ran forward, with Gar’rth following behind. In only a few yards the werewolf had overtaken the dwarf. The boy turned to run, intending to put a house between them, and Doric altered course accordingly to cut him off.

“It’s too late. We’ve been seen,” Theodore yelled. “Quickly, get into the cage. It’s our only hope.”

Several powerful figures appeared and charged Gar’rth down. Some ran on two legs, their faces monstrously distorted in a hybrid mix, while others ran on four and in the shape of large wolves. The first leapt into him, forcing him to the ground. A wolf took his arm in its maw and bit him savagely, and Kara lost sight of Gar’rth as he rolled with his two attackers. Four others ran by, heading directly for the cage.

Theodore closed the gate and snapped the padlock shut as the first of them crashed against the bars.

“What about Doric?” Castimir whispered. “Kara, he has to leave us.”

Kara nodded. She looked, and saw that the dwarf had ducked behind the house and now waited in the shadows, his dagger drawn.

There is nothing he could do. Even with a wolfbane dagger, there are too many of them now. She shouted out in the language of the dwarfs, certain there was no one among their attackers who could understand.

“Run, Doric,” she called. “Get back to Lord Despaard. Get out of here.”

The dwarf lifted his hand in acknowledgement. Then, with a final look back, he vanished into the smoke-filled village. As he disappeared from sight, the werewolves circling the cage turned away and joined in the assault on Gar’rth.

“What about Gar’rth?” Theodore asked.

“I could risk a spell,” Castimir said. “But at that range, and with such movement…”

Gar’rth was outnumbered by six to one. Two held him by the arms as a third heaped blows into his unprotected face. A fourth kicked him violently from behind.

“They will kill him soon, Castimir,” Kara said. She winced with each blow they gave him, and fearfully she imagined the damage done to his face and body.

Come on, Castimir!

The wizard was concentrating, and she didn’t speak for fear of upsetting his spell.

The runes in his hand evaporated as tongues of fire appeared in his hands. She felt her face flush from the sudden heat as Castimir threw his hands forward. The fire covered the distance in the blink of an eye and caught Gar’rth’s nearest attacker in the back as he readied himself to kick Gar’rth once more.

They were lost to Kara’s sight as the fire seemed to burst in all directions. The werewolves howled and fled, running to the safety of the shadows. The one who had delivered the merciless kicks was now aflame.

Only Gar’rth remained, lying still upon the ground.

“Get up, Gar’rth!” she screamed. “Come to us!”

“I can’t keep them at bay forever, Kara,” Castimir said, breathing deeply, his face sweating. “He is too far away for me to be sure of my accuracy.”

But Gar’rth rose to his knees, swaying unsteadily.

“Come to us, Gar’rth,” Theodore called.

The werewolf crawled toward them, agonizingly slowly. A stone was hurled at him from the shadows, and Kara saw that they were surrounded now by scores of enemies. It missed by a wide margin, but she knew more would follow.

“Hurry, Gar’rth. You must come quickly.”

The werewolf staggered to his feet and veered to his left and then his right, then half-fell toward them. Finally, as stones clattered among the bars above them, he lurched so that his back was propped up against the side of the cage. Kara put her arms around him, holding him up. His clothes were wet, his face battered, his eyes swollen and lips cut. Black blood covered his chest, and his head lolled back onto Kara’s arm.

Theodore winced. Castimir shook his head grimly.

“Kara… Kara…” the werewolf said.

“Shhh. Don’t try to speak, Gar’rth,” she whispered.

Look at what they have done to you. Your own people.

She couldn’t prevent the tears when they came. They dripped onto Gar’rth’s forehead and ran in little bloody rivulets down his face. But still she refused to let go-refused to let him fall to the ground.

While all around them, the werewolves gathered.

“They are coming, Castimir, no more feints.” Theodore stood close to Kara, his sword ready. From all sides the werewolves charged, too many too count.

If I am surrounded, I suppose I can attack in any direction, Castimir realised with grim humour. Runes melted and dissipated in his hands. Fire flew from his fingers, striking and burning the oncoming terrible mass that approached from the east, forcing the attack to withdraw. Several of his enemies fell, rolling in the dirt, as the others turned and fled back into the gloom, beyond his range.

“I’m not sure if I can do that again,” he said, staggering back against the bars, his heart crashing against his ribs. He sank to the floor of the cage and watched as those he had burned picked themselves up and retreated, one still aflame. Two others lay still, one a burning corpse for certain.

“I don’t see what they hope to gain by such a frontal assault,” Theodore mused.

You haven’t had to do anything save watch out for stones, Castimir thought. “They might be seeking to exhaust me,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Once I am done, they will be able to attack at their leisure.”

Theodore nodded.

“How many runes do you have?”

“Enough to fend off a few more charges like the last. But I could do with a rest.”

He felt his eyelids drop, and as they did he noticed that a calm had descended where only moments ago there had been the clamour of chaos. When he opened them again, he saw a single werewolf walk from the west, approaching the place where Kara held Gar’rth. He held a white cloth in his hand, and waved it for a moment before he shouted.

“I seek to parley,” the newcomer called. He was a big wolf with light-grey hair, his clothes tight about his bestial appearance. He took another step forward.

One of the town elders then. Talk as long as you may, for I will be glad of the rest.

“Then you and you alone may advance,” Theodore replied.

Castimir remained seated, his back to the farthest edge of the cage, opposite the advancing werewolf. Kara stood in front of him, while Gar’rth-miraculously still conscious-watched him from outside the bars.

“A young woman of child-bearing age was slain before her son’s eyes,” the newcomer said. “Her loss is felt by all of Canifis. We demand justice. Hand over her murderess, and the rest of you will be dealt with mercifully.”

“You cannot trust him,” Gar’rth mumbled.

“We are sorry for your loss,” Theodore replied. “But we acted in self defense. The woman attacked us. We will not hand over our friend to be killed.”

“Don’t be a fool, knight,” the elder hissed angrily, hurling the cloth to the ground. Castimir looked to his right and left. His head ached and his vision swam, but he could see that the werewolves had advanced.

They are getting ready for a charge. But what are they waiting for?

Kara and Theodore faced the newcomer steadily. Gar’rth, leaning against the bars, faced him also.

Castimir went cold.

The east. No one is watching the east!

He heard the sound as soon as he dived away from the bars. A clawed hand shot through and tore at the satchel that held the runes Aubury had given him. A second hand aimed to claw his throat.

“Kara!”

She reacted before he had finished speaking her name, stepping over him and stabbing with her adamant blade. Castimir heard a growl and a cry, followed by the drenching patter of liquid bursting from an artery. The hand