DREADWOLF

◈ Chapter 129:

Lyra’s breath became a little heated, exhaling and inhaling faster than normal. But that was just from the run, there was no way she was more than just a little excited about the coming feeling of letting Rain out, that was ridiculous!

 

She bit her lip and white knuckle gripped the railing as she felt him start to emerge, trying desperately not to whimper as black fur slowly, then more quickly, pulled from her black wool, her legs wobbling like jelly, her knees turning inward as that special magical link between herself and the giant wolf monster was greatly stimulated by his passage.

 

Rain crawled free and got to his feet, turning to see a shivering Lyra barely hanging onto the railing as her legs half-collapsed beneath her, little rivulets of wet running down her inner thighs from her shorts.

 

Rain spread his paws in outrage at the shakey little sheep girl.

 

“How are half the cleaning potions gone?!! What did you do!!”

 

Lyra breathy and limp lifted her head and glared back at him.

 

“Do you know what your creation did to those Drakes? It exploded them into blood and little tiny bits! It got absolutely everywhere! Do you know how much blood and bits are in a Drake? A lot!! Someone stumbling across the scene would think half a hundred people had been killed there!”

 

Rain’s paws lowered slightly.

 

“What was I supposed to do? Just leave a blood covered alley to be found by the city guard?”

 

“Well, no... but still.”

 

She wiped a stray strand of hair away from her sweaty face.

 

“It’s fine, Rain, we can always find more later,” she managed to get her shaky legs under her and rose. “For now we really really need to look for food. You are hungry, aren't you? You’ve barely eaten today, call me crazy but with you that is an extremely dangerous thing to happen.”

 

Rain’s stomach growled in answer.

 

“Hmmph, that's what I thought.”

 

Despite himself Rain had to agree, the point where he would lose control was starting to get dangerously close, maybe an hour away, he could feel the hunger pressing down on his mind, suppressing his conscious thoughts in favour of the ravenous predator. He might have been pushing his luck by staying in the library all day, the few snacks that Lyra brought back from her information hunt had only muffled the need for so long, a dozen pigs from a butchers shop weren't going to cut it.

 

“Then where should we go?”

 

Opal lifted her arms and gestured broadly in every direction. “What do you mean where? There’s food all around us, look, buildings and buildings full of delicious people, start here and work your way out! They’re all probably in their beds too, all convenient to gobble up!”

 

“Aheheh, no, that’s not what we are going to be doing,” said Lyra. “This is my city you know, I don't particularly want Rain rampaging around eating innocent people who have never harmed a fly in their lives.”

 

Opal crossed her arms. “How many of these people have gone down into the dungeon and slaughtered countless thinking feeling monsters to gain a few numbers?”

 

Lyra wilted a bit hearing that. It was difficult to have the moral high ground when the people she was defending were mass murderers when looked at in a certain light. Worse a little part of her agreed with the Goblin, and even worse than that she herself was included in that certain light. She had gone down to the dungeon and done violent things, violent things that had made her feel good, proud even, at the time. Not so now.

 

She wondered how long her moral compass was going to survive being around the Goblin.

 

“I don't- Look, we’re going to find a stable, we will be less likely to be discovered that way, no people to flee and tell the guards what happened. It just makes sense alright.”

 

“Okay.” said Rain. He turned on Vash. “You, get back inside of her wool space. We’re no longer in the library.”

 

Vash crossed his bony arms and raised his bony chin. “I do not need to be put back inside that space, I see no need, I am of more use outside.”

 

“An undead necromancer isn't going to be particularly appreciated by the city, if anyone sees you bad things are going to happen, and as you told us, especially if the priesthood catches wind of you…” murmured Lyra.

 

Still, Vash resisted, drawing his arms closer.

 

“Whether or not that happens seems irrelevant considering the chaos that will happen if the city sees the brute here, both scenarios will very likely lead to my demise. Thus it makes sense for me to be available to help.”

 

“He doesn't want to go back into your wool space. He is afraid of it.” said Rain, furrowing his brow in thought. “That is also why he volunteered to help assassinate Lord Wranvyre, he doesn't actually care about whether Wranvyre lives or not, he just doesn't want to go back into you and wants an excuse to be allowed to stay outside.”

 

“That- that is an utterly outrageous lie! I am only trying to make myself useful since I am seemingly attached to your fortunes for the foreseeable future. Your success is my success, and that is something I cannot help with trapped alone inside that deafeningly silent place!”

 

Lyra squinted up at the skeleton. His flame eyes carefully avoided her gaze. 

 

“You can come for now,” said Lyra after a moment.

 

“He cannot, he needs to go back inside.”

 

“He- he may be of use, a few rats looking out for anyone, uhm, getting near while we raid the stables…?”

 

“Yes!” said Vash, seizing on the idea, “That is something I can do that no other can. You need me.”

 

Rain gave them both a displeased look, lips thinning, but in the end he decided to relent.

--

It was getting dark in the city now, the luminous many coloured moon rising high in the sky.

 

It wasn’t lost on Lyra that she was currently riding on top of a giant wolf monster who held a Goblin in one arm, while beside them stalked a living skeleton, one boney hand resting awkwardly on Rain’s other arm. She wondered what her parents would think of her these days, she had left the city such a different person, now she was marching with at least two things that would make most people piss themselves in fright. It was a good thing they were invisible.

 

What she had thought was a stable turned out to be more of a general pen, a huge thing significantly larger than even Lythnia’s stable, one massive rectangular building with multiple floors. Over the front entrance was a sign that said ‘Calum’s general animel storage’.

 

They passed around the side where Rain crushed the lock and handle of the back door in one paw and let the twisted metal fall to the floor.

 

He squeezed down inside and entered the pens.

 

“This isn’t going to work.” growled Rain looking into the dark, the sound of braying or squealing animals filling the air. He had become markedly more feral since they had begun walking, increasingly struggling to control himself with every passing moment, claws twitching.

 

“Why?”

 

“We don't have enough cleaning potions to remove the mess.” Rain paused as he looked around. The pen seemed to offer a shodding service too as there was a backroom separate from the rows and rows of box stalls. “But if it was done in one place...”

 

He reached out and grabbed for the nearest horse, paw wrapping around its head, then his other paw for another horse.

 

He quickly pulled the two horses off their feet and disappeared through the wide door. The horses were unable to do a thing as they were dragged bodily across the stable floor, the urgency with which Rain moved showing just how close he was to losing it.

 

The sounds of horsey panic were quickly cut off in that dark place and then followed the sounds of teeth moving, incising.

 

Lyra shuddered a little, still not quite used to that. Then she turned and looked at the pens. There were a lot of animals in here, some box stalls were just crammed with horses, others had been converted and filled with pigs or cattle, some had their walls knocked down for more space, more animals. It seemed like the merchants who worked the markets rented space here to keep stock close at hand. For Rain it was a buffet.

 

Obviously she just had to get all of this through the door Rain had disappeared through.

 

She blinked in surprise as a horse near Vash bucked backwards in fright when the skeleton took a step closer.

 

“Ah. That’s how it is. Vash, I have a job for you.”

 

The skeleton tilted his head in polite question.

 

“I want you to take your rats and scare all of these animals through that door over there, where Rain is.”

 

The necromancer considered this.

 

“You want me to use my legendary ability as a necromancer, the greatest necromancer of his century, to… herd farm animals?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“I- That is there is no-” the necromancer sputtered.

 

“Do you want to go back inside of me?”

 

“...No.” 

 

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, the necromancer set to work. Rats poured amongst the box stalls, picking apart ropes and harness and locks and soon the animals were spilling out into the main corridor. At one end was a terrifying storm of moving rats and bones, boiling across the floor, at the other was a large open door they could pass through. The choice was easy.

 

Soon the entire stable was on the move, a solid river of animals pouring into the shodding room. The cattle went through the door, a sound of animal alarm came from within, and then silence. 

 

The stream of cattle continued on, dozens, then over a hundred, cows, pigs, horses all directed inward. The long ramps leading up to the floors above were packed too as it all flowed down. It was a sight to see, a river of bodies filling the space wall to wall all pouring through into one small room at the back of the building. The stables held an incredible amount of stock, it was a popular service after all.

 

Bit by bit the entire contents of the structure were moved into the back room. Hundreds and hundreds of animals disappearing into that carnivorous place to never come back out. 

 

Then, it was done, and Lyra set about pouring cleaning potions everywhere while trying not to think too hard about what had just happened, and Rain fussed over her wasteful use of potion.

 

They finished and then they moved onto the next stable, repeating the same process. Skeletons frightened the animals, guiding them into a side room where they were rapidly devoured. Wash, rinse, repeat.

 

They continued like that until Rain had eaten nearly a thousand and was feeling much better. Animals were never going to be as filling as a leveler or monster, but numbers could somewhat make up for that.

 

They had to stop, in the end, not because Rain was full but because they were running low on cleaning potions. 

----

The horse-drawn stagecoach was old and worn, the varnish long cracked and peeling in the sun, what had once been a company coat of arms was bleached and barely visible on its doors. In short it looked neglected beyond belief. About the only thing that showed a tiny fraction of a care was the words clumsily painted on the side: ‘inter city trahvel, wun coper a day. Customers reponseble for own protecshon from monsturs.’

 

With an alarming creak the decrepit thing came to a stop on the side of the street and the dozen or so occupants began to move around as they realised they were at last at their destination and needed to get off, clambering over each other in the small compartment.

 

There was one person amongst the passengers who the others strained to avoid touching however despite the space being packed so tight. He looked like a normal person, a red haired Elf with well-coifed hair, but then when he turned his disfigurement became visible and the others flinched away. Not a common disfigurement, no, this disfigurement was especially unsettling, unsettling because it made you wonder how the owner was still alive. 

 

Part of his chest had been removed, a huge chunk that had included his right shoulder, part of his rib cage, and presumably a large part of his right lung. Of course that included his entire arm too.

 

It wasn’t hard to guess how he had managed to survive such a wound. The usual miracle of healing potions, in his case many many many potions frantically splashed against his flesh over and over and over as he lay dying under a table. It had somehow worked, just, the potions sealing of his broken veins, broken muscle, broken flesh, making him whole, just less of a whole.

 

His extreme disfigurement was something the eye was loath to look at and the other occupants of the cramped stagecoach tried their best to avoid glancing in his direction. 

 

The Elf sniffed at that and pushed past them to get out the door, knocking down an old lady as he kicked and shoved his way out of the stagecoach.

 

Pity? Their pity was a disgusting insult that should be met with aggression to teach them a lesson.

 

He took the steps two at a time and stomped down onto the street, the old lady he had knocked over ignored as she struggled on the horse dung strewn cobble.

 

He closed his eyes and stretched, breathing in free safe air through his nostrils and letting the chaotic turmoil in his guts leave with his long exhalation, his jangling nerves calming for the first time since he had left Lynthia. His breath wasn’t quite what it was, of course, his lung capacity had been permanently reduced and he grew tired quickly, but he was alive, and that was what mattered.

 

Zack had done it, he was safe, safe in the little town of Silvara. He had escaped that hell on earth, no terrifying wolf monsters or succubuses here, and with Florens so nearby there was no chance either a monster or a succubus could cause trouble. A monster like Fitz would be chewed up and spat out, and a succubus would be smashed dead the instant she was noticed, thank the gods.

 

The thought gave him comfort. Perhaps he might actually be able to sleep a little tonight.

 

He opened his eyes and found himself looking at a notice board. Dozens of sheets of paper had been tacked to it. A typical spot for such a thing since the intercity caravans used this street as a drop off point.

 

He was about to turn away when something caught his eye. A wanted poster more noticeable than the rest, one placed quite visibly at the centre.

 

It was of a half-woollie-half-elf. Not that would instantly cause him recognition as the drawing was crude, but the name, he knew that name. Lyra.

 

He unsteadily stepped toward it, lifting his remaining hand and shakily pressing his palm against the poster, her face visible through his spread fingers.

 

HOW?!

 

It was her. That evil twisted bitch. The one who had humiliated him, rejected him repeatedly, had him tossed on a roof for half a day, stolen his chance to pin the town’s problems on Fitz, and then finally had her monster eat his arm and part of his torso. 

 

His fingers tensed, nails scoring lines in the paper.

 

Was she a criminal from the very start? His hatred was almost gleeful with the thought, killing her would be more than the imagined revenge he had obsessively gnawed at over the days stuck in the cramped stagecoach, now it would be public justice, he would be a hero. Wait, was she here? In Silvara? In Florens? And did that mean… did that mean that Fitz, her wolf, was with her?

 

He shuddered at the thought. His hope for a restful night of sleep rapidly dwindling to nothing. He very much wanted to kill that sheep girl, but equally, his bone deep fear of her wolf made him want to keep far far away. 

 

The conflicting feelings left him frustratingly torn and his hand formed a fist as he punched the poster as hard as he could. The board shuddered, papers coming loose and drifting to the ground around him. The exertion and anger caused his breath to come rough, his one remaining shoulder rising and falling.

 

His eyes drifted down the poster, below the fist covering her face, to her name. Her reward.

 

That was… a very large reward…. A very very large reward. What in the abyss had she done to deserve that?

 

“You got a  problem with the sheep?” slurred a voice.

 

He stilled and glanced to his side.

 

A Lapine was slumped against the wall by the board, a ragged cloak drawn up, maybe a dozen empty bottles were scattered around him, the last held in paw, amber liquid sloshing.

 

Interestingly the rabbit person had no ears. Where there would normally have been a pair of tall velvet black rabbit ears poking from the top of the Lapine’s head there was now… nothing, only two stumps of healed over flesh. The Elf recognised the fresh healing, it was as his own wound: potion healed.

 

The Elf sniffed.

 

“You have no idea. I would do anything to see her dead.”

 

The Lapine slugged from the bottle.

 

“Hmpph. Good luck with that. S’only me who’s going to find her now. S’only me, just me, no one else, no one else in the whole wide world.”

 

Zack narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

 

“She’s got a disguise. A good one.”

 

He considered this. The Lapine knew something. He paused as something else occurred to him and his eyes moved back to the Lapine’s ears. No, it couldn’t be, could it?”

 

“Your ears. They were taken recently. Were they… eaten?”

 

The Lapine stared at him. “A Goblin belonging to that sheep bitch took them… But eaten? No, she said… but she said they were a snack for her wolf…”

 

A look of dismay appeared on the Lapine’s face as it dawned on him that he was very unlikely to be getting his ears back.

 

Zack’s pulse sped up. They were here! Somehow the sheep and her wolf had overtaken him on his journey. This was the last time he went with the bottom of the barrel cheapest transportation option he swore to the gods! 

 

Even as those thoughts rushed through his mind he murmured his commiserations to the Lapine. The Lapine’s loss was something he could genuinely sympathise with after all. Then he furrowed his brow in thought. A Goblin? Yes, there had been a Goblin with Lyra and Fitz, a very unslave like Goblin...

 

“That Goblin, that evil twisted bitch,” spat the Lapine in a mirror to Zack’s hate, paws coming up and strangling the air, as if imagining the Goblin girl was beneath his digits. “I won't be caught out by some sneaky evolution trick next time.”

 

“Then you don't know what the real threat is? I promise you it’s not the sheep, or the Goblin.”

 

The Lapine looked confused.

 

“It’s the wolf monster. If anyone wants to take that bounty then the wolf needs to be taken care of, or distracted first, because it is... disturbingly strong, it’s what took my arm.”

 

“I… remember seeing something like that, a pile of fur fallen through a wall. And afterwards, there were these elves screaming about a wolf as the healer applied the healing to my poor head.”

 

“Yes, that, if you didn't see it in action then you don't know the danger. It’s dangerous enough that it would likely be better to take the sheep and the Goblin away from it when it’s not looking rather than take it on directly, leave it for others to deal with while claiming the bounty.”

 

The Lapine considered this in his drunken state. “You know a lot about them, and you know my pain. Do you… want to make a deal?”

    

“What, with you?” Zack looked over the mess of a Lapine and his lip drew up in disgust before he could stifle it and school his expression. Fortunately, the Lapine didn't seem to notice.

 

He needed to be calculating. The Lapine could help him find Lyra. That meant he was valuable, despite his unimpressive appearance.

 

He reached out a hand and the Lapine took it. With difficulty he hauled the Lapine onto his feet. The Lapine wobbled. Caught himself. Then found his balance.

 

Zack nodded. “Yes, a bounty hunting team. One to kidnap the sheep and the Goblin from right under the wolf monster’s nose.”

 

“And kill them,” muttered the Lapine.

 

“Of course. You can call me Zack.”

 

“Tudor Black,” said Tudor.