attacks. Erik was not on the attack, confused as he was by my actions. That was fine, since my plan required only a moment of violence, and all of it from my hand. If I failed, or my instincts were simply wrong, the prowess of this old warrior would not matter at all. We would both be food for the cursed soldier-wolves of old Krona.
I hurried forward, readying my sword. The Kronan wolf to my front snarled aloud, bearing his fangs. They were long and sharp, and I had seen such jaws and fangs rend deer in two bloodied pieces with one violent motion. I would not survive those jaws. The creature snarled and barked, and then howled to the sky. The sound was answered with many such howls, most of them behind us. I was right. They were almost all behind us.
I gritted my teeth, my own fierceness coming to the fore. I felt the slackness of many months without bloodshed melt away, and the old training return. As the wolf began its headlong charge toward me, it raised itself on its back legs and came at me like a man. The eyes burned all the brighter, and its fangs were ready for me. Its claws reached out, and its muscular legs moved it forward. It snarled, and so did I.
The beast shifted to its left, and so I took my sword in my right hand, positioning it to make just the right stroke. I focused on the footing and movement needed to make the kill. The forest seemed to hush, and even Erik's heavy breathing grew quiet. I only caught some of his words, demanding to know what I was doing. I did not answer. My own breathing grew more quiet, and then I heard it no more.
We galloped toward each other, the man-beast and I. I had a sword, and it had claws. I had training, it had the rage of years roaming as a beast of the forest. I felt our fight begin even before we met, as our wills met in the middle, doing battle over the ever-shrinking distance between us. It snarled and I growled, as if our voices were fierce enough to bat away the others' strength.
The beast's feet hit the ground lightly, gracefully. My own feet seemed so much heavier as I paid close attention to each step, each shift of my muscles. Balance and timing were everything. Between us was a small patch of rocky ground, and I could see the dried remnants of algae upon the rocks. This had been a river, recently dried. The rocks would be slippery with the dusty remnants of the river bottom. I adjusted my plan.
Closer and closer we came, until at the last moment I shifted my weight backward, allowing my feet to thrust ahead. I slid across the water-smoothed, dry, algae-covered rocks, using my left hand to balance myself. I felt the dry, smooth rocks glide beneath my palm. The Kronan wolf swiped at me with its right claw, but it was too late. My sword drove into its stomach. My momentum carried me forward and past the beast, but I held onto my blade. As our bodies passed each other, the momentum of our movement pushed the edge of the blade toward the beast's flank, tearing the creature's innards as it sliced. I tore out the blade, and felt the blood spatter upon my face. The motion spun me around, and I came to a stop facing the cursed creature.
The beast staggered for a moment, grasping its sides, trying to stem the flow of blood, organs, and filth. It made a half-hearted growl, and then collapsed into a pile atop its own spilled parts. The light in its eyes seemed to dim, and then suddenly, shockingly, the eyes were as a man's! They were pale blue, and they were filled with tears. It, no, he looked at me from his ruined form, and for the briefest moment it seemed as though he were thanking me. I shook off the very idea that a Kronan wolf, evil even before the magic mangled his form, would be thankful of death. Nonsense.
A moment's revere was all I could afford, and then I was up again. I wiped the blood from my face. It was still warm, and the smell of iron mixed with something I could not place, nor had the time to think on. Erik was quickly approaching, and I had no time to think deep thoughts about what had occurred.
"What are you doing?" he snarled as he approached.
"Keep up!" I called back.
I turned on my heel and dashed onward. A second Kronan wolf appeared ahead of us, leaping from behind a tree. I slashed at it, catching it in the shoulder. Like the other wolf, this one still carried the armor of its days as a soldier of the Dark Kingdom. My sword glanced harmlessly off the rusted armor, and I lost my balance. I stumbled forward, the beast missing me in its leap. I tried turning to meet the beast, but my right foot caught a stone and I tripped. As the creature reeled on me, itself well footed and ready for the kill, it suddenly jerked forward clumsily. I rolled aside as it struck the ground. I heard the clank of metal against metal. It was Erik's sword, driven through the beast and striking its armored shoulder plate.
Erik hurried to me from some several strides away. He had thrown the enormous blade, heavy though it was. I smiled briefly at the feat, his prowess still there when needed, even beneath the cobwebs of age. He lifted me from the ground, with me using my sword to help steady myself. As soon as I was up, he took hold of his sword, pulling it from the beast. The blade scraped against the bones of the Kronan wolf as he drew it from its new flesh-scabbard, just below the right shoulder. It was a sickening sound, and the creature's lung sighed its last, as the air escaped through the wound.
"What now?" he asked.
I gestured behind us. "Look," I said through hard breathing. "They have stopped."
Indeed, the pack had stopped. Until that moment, I had not truly understood what pursued us. A pack of Kronan wolves, yes, but I had taken their number to be fifty, no more. Instead, the pack pursuing us numbered several hundred, all of them slowing to a walk, and finally stopping. They were silent, save for the panting from the pursuit. All eyes, red and glowing angrily, were upon us. No, they were upon me. I felt them as I had the first wolf's. I had the feeling that something was crawling up the back of my neck, only this time far more powerful. They glared at me, and I felt the glares press upon me. Still, none approached beyond the corpse of my first victim, just as I had expected.
"What is this?" Erik grumbled. "Why do they not just finish it?"
I took Erik by the shirt, pulling it to goad him onward. We started trotting away, keeping the motionless pack in our sight as we hurried from its sight. As soon as we started moving, the beasts began to howl. It was a baleful sound, menace mixed with sorrow. They entire pack howled thus, and it drove Erik and I onward as surely as the threat of their fangs and claws. As the pack receded out of sight, hidden by the trees, we picked up speed. The trees seemed to fly by us as we ran. The sound of the howls chased us through the forests, as though the sounds themselves were angrier than the wolves which created them, and more willing to pursue us. Still, the howls grew quieter, more distant.
We listened for sounds of pursuit, but of course I knew there would be none. The pack was likely where we left it, if not already turned to return to its own proper home in Meekwood Forest. Still, we kept alert for sounds of danger. Thankfully, none came. I sensed nothing but the confused, angry glare of my fellow, who was too winded from the run to ask what was no doubt foremost on his mind.
We did not stop running for perhaps an hour, when we finally cleared the tree line. The lush, green fields of our home stretched out before us. We were on the soil of our Mother, Esis, and the sun seemed all the warmer for it. The grass was long, swaying in a slight breeze. We kept moving, though. These fields were not friendly, nor had they been since the days of the plagues. Here the winds and grasses swayed maliciously, sometimes even violently, hoping to drive their victims eastward toward a nearby tar pit. Thankfully, as cruel as the intent of the winds and grass might be, they were nothing more than winds and grass. Travelers needed simply to keep moving.
"How did you know?" Erik asked when we finally slowed to a walk. "How did you know they would not run us down?"
I held my tongue for a while, perhaps a minute. I pondered how best to word my reply. Would he understand? Would he think
