Of Wolves and Foxes Ch. 02

Here's the second instalment. Apologies for the wrong tag associated with the last chapter. Read up.

Droplets pelted the forest canopies by the millions. No lighting flashed, no thunder clapped. Just peaceful rain blessing the northern woodlands in the dead of witching hours.

But the calm wouldn't last. The sound was barely audible at first. And no, it wasn't the bellow of toads, nor the howling of wind. An untrained ear could easily miss it. That repetitive drumming on god's cold earth resounded in the distance. The echo of on my thumping hooves fought hard through the incessant patter of rainfall as accompanying vibrations shook more prominently.

There was a disturbance in the wilds. One could feel it in the trees, in the air you breathed. The atmosphere was thick with tension.

Water splashed violently as hooves descended in rapid succession. The horses flew past in a blur, sprinting the final leagues without restraint. Scores of mud were chucked into the air as hooves made brief contact with the ground below, digging in before hurtling their riders forward.

No words were traded. None were needed. With arses suspended mid-air, the steeds were pushed harder with a whip of their reigns. It couldn't be helped. Despite the rain, regardless of the cold that came with it; they simply had to get there.

They blitzed through various selections of foliage, weaving through obstacles like politicians running from responsibilities.

Trees and shrubs shot past, often snagging and tearing at their burlap. The damn things were barely visible under cloud cover making them an utter bitch to dodge. A soft yank at the reigns told Marlin to vault over a fallen trunk. The beast didn't miss a beat.

Upon landing, a secondary thud vibrated from behind him, bearing reminder of how closely his comrade shadowed. Knowing backup was near brought an artificial sense of safety. A notion he would not be foolish enough to entertain.

'Eyes front. Breathe. Concentrate. We're almost there,' Bryce told himself.

And just as the thought passed, a dim light glittered through the dense flora up ahead. Blue eyes widened in recognition. His arm shot out and pointed at the target.

"There!" he alerted.

It wasn't necessary. Clause had already drawn his gun up into the air. Through the canopy of leaves, shot out a bright yellow flare, rocketing through the atmosphere and dousing the rainy scene in its majestic hue.

But as they sped in closer... no response returned. A glance back revealed a just as confused Clause. Where was their feedback? Clause reloaded, pointed and pulled the trigger. The bang resounded throughout the trees, rocking leaves with booming vibrations.

No bang returned, however. No green or red flare. Not a thing. What was going on over there? The two burst out of the tree line and into the grass covered clearing surrounding the outpost.

Rain thumped down even harder without the protection of leaves, but they would not falter. Just a few couple of hundred metres away stood their goal: A construct of wood and stone seated atop a hill. This was Soba core's eleventh base on the north-eastern frontier. Inside dwelt a certain class of elite. One that all soldiers aspire to become. A breed of wolf that foxes have nightmares about. Tonight however, they were silent.

Studded hooves stormed up a soaked green slope. Steam puffed from the steed's nostrils with every grunt. And when they neared the summit, they galloped alongside the massive stone wall. Flags representing the twelve houses hung from steel shafts. One by one, they shot past the coloured cloth from below, dashing desperately for the southern entrance. With just a few more strides around the enclosure, the lamp came into full view, shining unbridled onto the open drawbridge below.

'No...'

Bryce yanked on his reigns, rapidly breaking pace. Clause bolted past.

Not good.

It was way too dark for open gates. With no acknowledgement to their flares, who'd be crazy enough to drop the bridge?

And where the fuck were the guards? There existed no bodies nor blood on the scene. No signs of a struggle...

'No signs of a struggle,' he whispered.

Puzzle pieces started falling into place... albeit a little too late.

"Clause, wait!" he bellowed in panic. Dark pupils zoned in on his friend streaking for the open gate "Stop! It's a setu-...!!"

Blazing white lights flashed across blue eyes. Bryce screamed in denial as he bore witness to the eruption of a blaring firestorm. A panicked neigh broke out as Marlin leaped onto hind legs whilst belts of white-hot flames spread out.

Bryce strained for grip, battling to stay onboard. Clause, however, wasn't given the option. The shockwave catapulted mare and rider alike through the rain, flying together with flaming shards and splinters.

Heavy thuds splashed out as bodies smacked dirt, one after the other. Mud and grit splattered whilst a ton worth of horse barrelled through the ground. Long broken legs flailed as the beast crushed its former owner beneath its massive weight before grinding down the muddy slope.

Yellow flames burned and cackled all across the open drawbridge, defiant against summer showers. In the midst of it all, stood a long thin construct jammed into wood. Very few weapons held enough weight to deal carnage of such magnitude. Let alone in a single blow.

Searing hatred poured itself into the observer's bloodstream. Like acid, unchecked rage sunk deep into bone. 'These fuckers,' he fumed in a whisper.

With all the cascading rain, discerning droplets from the warmth of tears became infeasible.

'They're... they're dead,' growled the aggrieved. 'They're all dead.'

Irate hands ripped out the flare gun and sent a blazing round into dark skies. Bright, it shone. Billions of droplets sparkled as the round rose before bursting into a proud yellow flame. In that second; wet stone walls, falling water and drenched hillsides lit up. In that second, he saw the enemy.

Bloodshot eyes registered their positions lining the zenith of the barricade. Each invader manned a wall mounted ballista. Ballistae which the wolves erected. These assholes couldn't even be arsed to bring their own arsenal?

A sharp clang rang out as a fox reloaded the next javelin. Mechanical clicking rippled down soaked walls as the catapult wound taught.

"Wait!" the scout called out from below. "Just hold on a damn second!" Cracks of frustration lingered in his tone

Nobody cared. The clicking continued. Clearly these demons weren't here for prisoners. Irritated, Bryce swore viciously under his breath.

He slid off a thoroughly startled Marlin, nearly crumbling on top of his bad leg. "You got me, alright?!" he yelled, stumbling for balance. A hand found the reins and latched on. "I give!"

His free arm delved into the saddle bag and yanked out the archer's trophy. "Look! Before you burn me, at least consider taking this first!" The moment he raised it mid-air, the clicking stopped. "You wouldn't deny your comrade's ancestors their legacy, would you?"

Deathly silence followed. The flare above burnt out and darkness came rushing back in. Dying flames on the bridge were all that were left to illuminate the scene. They shone just bright enough to illuminate a figure atop the wall. The caped silhouette regarded him a moment before turning and walking out of view.

"Thought..." - cough - "as much..." Wiping the rain off his eyes, he gestured to his horse. "Stay here Marlin."

Then step by agonising footstep, muddy feet hobbled their way towards the flaming drawbridge. Disobediently, the stallion followed, but only for a moment. Horses don't like fire. They don't like certain death either. Yet this idiot regarded as 'master' simply limped on, side stepping smoking wooden shards. A neigh rung out in protest, but Bryce raised a hand.

'For the love of god, could you just listen to me this one time,' he begged.

As he tread on, the boy unholstered his flare gun and dropped it with a squelch. A dagger was discarded next, followed by some shuriken.

That cursed aching throbbed harder with each boot print left behind. Audibly, he winced as the last weapons were pulled out: Reloads for the recently disposed flare gun.

Overhead, javelins trained their explosive heads on their prey below, creaking as their aim matched every step. And even when he boarded the bridge, sights stayed levelled on him, despite dropping his arsenal.

With a toss, he threw the bullets away and raised both arms in submission. While waiting on his executioner, the last dying flames danced at his feet.

'Fuck all left to lose, right?' he thought while standing shakily on the drawbridge. 'I don't know how you illegitimate bastards did this, nor can I compute your reasons, but you don't get to dictate how this ends. Not to me.'

Blue eyes dilated, searching for their nemesis through pellucid smoke. A mere shadow initially, the figure materialised, exiting the wide arched gate. With every armoured step, wood vibrated. A second soldier emerged from the smog. These were different. More prepared.

They wore metal instead of leather. Donned capes in place of cloaks. Helmets replaced the masks. But through the visor, Bryce could spot something vulnerable underneath.

Swords were drawn. Silver tips dragged across the wooden surface of the drawbridge. The scout resembled a lamb awaiting slaughter. Then again, leaving alive had always been a long shot. But he'd be damned if he went out alone.

One last glance was spared unto his fallen comrade and his steed down the slope. Clause was right all along. These abominations were not to be classified as human. To think he wasted all that childhood ambition in hopes to communicate... to reason with a beast that moonlights in murder. Showing mercy would be nothing short of suicide.

Suddenly, the wood beneath him quaked, bringing his attention back. But by the time blue eyes glanced back around, the first knight was already at his flank. The second charged through flames like they didn't exist. Iron-clad boots displaced ash and rubble as they shook the drawbridge. Metallic waste flew out amidst the dirt, settling among the embers.

"I hope you understand... that I'm not here to offer my neck," said Bryce, quickly changing his stance. Chainmail rattled against steel plates as they shut the last few feet with just a few strides.

"Have it your way," declared the recruit. Long swords swung around, slashing through thin air. "We shall meet at the gates of Zion together!"

...

...

It was ear-splitting. Thunder couldn't be louder. Multiple shockwaves rocked the bridge as blazing lights ran rampant. And even with eyes shut and ears plugged tight, Bryce could still feel the trauma rip through his core.

It hurt. Noises so loud, they dropped the recruit to his knees. Coughs tore up his airway. Showers danced behind his eyes. Symphonies of high pitch tones strum through eardrums, trifling with his balance.

But if he felt this wasted, then his enemies must be in hell. Eyelids cracked apart, and a sea of colours hijacked his vision. Red, blue, yellow, orange and lime. Thick rainbows of vibrant smoke dirtied the air. They blot out the surroundings like a thick winter fog.

And with all these ranging hues, the ballistae suddenly weren't a factor anymore. It was just him and these knights, sprawled and screaming through their spasms.

"Hurts doesn't it?" goaded Bryce as he unplugged his forefingers from his ears. With a grunt, he pushed up onto both feet. "Helmets don't help much when you need to cut the sound," he continued. "On the contrary; they amplify it instead."

A long silver sword lay discarded on the ground. Carved inscriptions ran along a well-used blade. The scout grabbed it by the handle and dragged it along. "Funny right? You spend your whole life fine tuning your skills... your defences... only for some random moron to come along and make those efforts irrelevant. On a mere technicality, no less."

Worn leather boots stopped beside the quivering heap of armour. "By now, you can obviously relate," he said, a touch of venom spilling into his tone. "Up until two minutes ago, I knew a friend that could empathise."

Unsteadily, his nemesis braced a hand against cold wet wood. With a groan, the fox attempted pushing up. But that's when a boot came crashing down on the back plate, driving the fox into splintered wood.

"You'll get to know him soon too," spat Bryce from above. "Maybe y'all can settle the score in the afterlife! Without all the fancy weapons, reinforcements, and steel plate armour!" he snapped, forcing the blade tip between metal discs. Firm hands dug it through to the neck and cut into skin. "So, when the ferryman asks, let him know that you were so tunnel visioned; you couldn't even spot a couple of flare bullets triggered by your own flames!"

Without warning, a booming thud rocked through wooden floorboards. He only had a split second to register the plated arm yanking him mid-air.

The second knight barrelled through the rain with a solid grip on his waist. Bryce cried out in shock, dropping the sword. He clutched the plume, wrenching the foxes' head aside before crashing his other elbow into chainmail.

Harder, he rammed. And again, with a brutish grunt, slamming harder each time. The enemy succumbed, practically throwing him through the rain. Water splashed as his back smacked the bridge. He slid, skidding off the edge and onto muddy gravel.

A vocal sigh escaped his lungs in ire. Crimson strands of red fur littered his hand. "Fuck," he swore before gifting the plume's remains to the wind. "This... is just not my day," muttered Bryce whilst rolling himself over. "What does a guy... have to do to live around here?"

Footsteps vibrated through the earth. He could feel them through worn palms. Bloodshot eyes glanced towards his advancing rival. Water droplets bounced off polished steel. Coloured smoke leaked from gaps in armour. And as magnanimous as the sight was, something was off...

The cavalier swayed with each step, occasionally shaking that helmet clad skull. Bryce narrowed his eyes in realisation. 'You're stunned, aren't you?' he murmured, rising to both feet again. Sharp eyes examined the enemy, looking over each crevice and hinge. They searched for chainmail or cloth. Any opening that resembled vulnerability would do.

The knight reached down to its waistline, patting the faulds.

"Lost something?" Bryce queried.

He raised a curved short sword. "You made me drop mine, so I improvised. I hope that's okay." Vexation brewed behind the brute's visor.

The recruit shifted focus to the background. Damnit. With all this rain, the coloured smoke was clearing. At any moment, archers would make his efforts a non-factor. If he was to act, now was the time.

With a thud, the fox lunged forward. Bryce charged too. Without the heavy armament, he was faster, sliding past under the knight's haymaker and slashing at the sides. Sparks flew as he missed the gaps between steel plates

"Shit," he swore, flinging the weapon to his other hand before swinging it around. A loud ring echoed as it smashed into crossed gauntlets.

The knight pushed back and Bryce did likewise, gripping the blade with his free hand and driving forward. His blood ran down the metal and onto the hilt

White teeth grit in pain whilst he shoved even harder. Metal boots lost their grip while rubber soles pushed on. Stomp by heavy stomp the wolf drove forward whilst the knight struggled for grip.

Suddenly, Bryce pulled back - and with a lunge - rammed his shoulder into hard metal. A clank rang out and the brute stumbled backwards onto gravel, but the wolf stuck close. Wet earth splashed as Bryce launched airborne and drop-kicked his opponent square on the chest.

Air fluttered around his ears as both warriors plummeted onto hard drenched earth. Two painful thuds echoed out. And thus began the descent down the slippery slope of the hillside.

Like lightning, silver flashed in the air above before striking the wet earth. The greenhorn held fast to the hilt of the borrowed sword as it slowed his decline, digging through mud as he skid to a halt.

Vengeful blue eyes observed his nemesis tumble and roll away in all its armour. A loud clunk rang out as the demon smashed through a boulder, unearthing it on the way down.

Bryce didn't waste another second. With a tug on the short sword, he pulled himself up. With all this adrenaline, the wound in his thigh was but an afterthought.

Thuds vibrated with each step towards the remaining knight. "Note to self," the rookie thought while stepping onto the bridge. "No flamboyant speeches, no fancy one liners before execution," he berated himself. "Axe the remaining fucker and be done with it."

A few yards away, the said fucker knelt on hands and knees. Bryce juggled the short sword between fingers as he closed the gap. Raw hatred built with each step.

'Nothing but a monster...' he whispered, gripping the hilt with conviction. "... that doesn't deserve to breathe."

Suddenly, the remaining Knight launched forward. The clank of metal against chainmail rattled with the first stride, the drawbridge rattled with the second. And the third. And the fourth.

The enemy was a blur though smoke and rain.

Bryce stepped in, switching into stance as the tackle came in low. With a twist of his foot, he rammed his knee into the enemy's helmet just before metal arms connected. Sparks flew as his knee guard broke off.

"Fuck!" he swore in pain.

Armoured boots stumbled to the side, whilst Bryce hopped over to the other. Growling, the silver fox braced and charged again, blitzing through the coloured smoke.

A loud thud echoed as the knight launched itself mid-air. Down came a flying haymaker, swinging past the nimble wolf. Another thud echoed as his opponent changed stance before swinging again.

Cold steel grazed his nose. The greenhorn hopped back, but the fox kept close. Blue eyes spotted a metallic fist rise from below. The wolf dodged the uppercut and deflected the next elbow. A flurry of bare-handed blows came at him. He kept up though, deftly stepping left, sliding right, then left again.

Smoke was displaced with every assault he blocked and diverted.

Then it happened. A sharp, crippling pain shot up his thigh. He gasped, recalling the wound from earlier. That distraction would be all the abomination would need.

Silver flashed below, right before he felt the fist digging into his gut. Next was the hand gripping his collar, yanking him forward. And then came the headbutt. That savage metallic headbutt sent him reeling towards the gate.

'Don't you dare fall!' he admonished himself whilst holding his aching stomach. Just then, something warm brushed his hand. Something made of steel.

Blue eyes took note of the javelin sticking out of the drawbridge. The same one that started this conflict.

With haste, he tugged on the weapon but it wouldn't budge. He tugged harder, both hands this time.

However, his efforts were cut short when the cavalier barrelled full speed into him. Armoured shoes slid to a stop whilst Bryce tumbled through the coloured smoke.

He landed hard on the drawbridge with a pained grunt.

A few feet away, the oppressor took a single look at the javelin jutting out of the floor. With one hand, the brute yanked it loose.

"Hey!" the injured soldier rasped. "That's... that's mine." With visible effort, he sat up onto his heels and pointed a finger at the stolen tool. "I swear, you're gonna wish you never took that." Not that the opposition cared. Crackling embers followed where the knight dragged the tip of the javelin.

"Idiot," sighed the injured greenhorn. Giddily, he started pushing up off the floor. "You don't even know how that thing works," he added when no response came back. "It's your funeral though..." Trash talking must not have seemed very convincing in his current state.