WOLFWEIR Read online

  He kicked his horse in the ribs and rode down on the crouching black-caped figure. Whirling his cutlass like Pirate Jack Fury, he beheaded the Vampire even as it stood, holding the Man-wolf's dripping head.

  But then a horse crashed into his, and Alphonse flew spinning through the murk, and landed face down in churned mud.

  He jumped to his feet, wiping the mud from his eyes, in time to parry a savage attack by a Dragoon. Alphonse cut the Dragoon at the knees, and the man fell screaming.

  Alphonse leaped astride a riderless horse, whirled, and rode hard back into the fray, smashing aside lance points with his cutlass.

  He glimpsed the kingly figure of Gar Fith -- yes, it was him. There was the lurid red gleam of the Blood Amulet dangling on its heavy tarnished silver chain around his neck.

  The High King of the Man Wolves was surrounded by black flowing shapes -- Vampyes, slashing at him from all directions.

  Sparks flew as if in a forge. The High King was howling curses and cutting down the black shapes as they whirled at him, some on horseback and some diving inkily from the air.

  And now Alphonse, his pine-eyes wide in horror, saw the High King knocked from his horse, crashing to the mud.

  And, almost simultaneously, Alphonse saw the elegant black-armored figure of Edward Blackgore leaping from a horse, sword glittering aloft, to take the High King's head.

  Alphonse kicked his mount and smashed through a group of Dragoons from behind, trampling them.

  It all seemed to be unfolding in deep, murky nightmare slow motion.

  The Blood Amulet

  The High King of the Man-wolves now smashed at the Vampyre Lord with a mailed fist, sending him sprawling. He staggered to his feet, snatching up his muddy battle cutlass.

  Edward Blackgore rebounded at the High King like a fury, and naked steel screeched and sparked as they fought.

  Alphonse, rushing to the High King's side, felt a sharp blow from behind, and suddenly he was somersaulting.

  Shot!

  He landed in deep mud, and the horse, also somersaulting, landed squarely on top of him with a scream. Alphonse heard his limbs cracking like tinder wood.

  He writhed and struggled and clawed to get out from under the kicking horse. He did not know how long it took to free himself. Maybe he crawled out from under, or maybe the horse rolled away.

  But as he stood shakily, knock kneed in the whirl of the battle, he saw that the High King had brought down Edward Blackgore, and was straddling the Vampyre Lord to deliver a death blow.

  Alphonse's puppet mouth gaped open wide when he saw a lance thrust through the High King from behind, the gleaming point sticking out from the muddy breastplate, and a gush of bright blood.

  The High King of the Man Wolves staggered, howling, as the lance lifted him from his feet, dangled him, then dropped him ingloriously face down into the trampled muck, where his corpse lay still.

  Alphonse now saw who had killed the Wolf King.

  It was Lady Blackgore, on horseback, holding a Dragoon's lance -- in full armor, her head tilted back, laughing joyously.

  Alphonse saw Edward Blackgore leap to his feet, grinning like the ghoul he was, and approaching the High King's corpse with a dagger in his mailed fist -- to deliver the coup de grace, no doubt. Or to take a prize.

  The Blood Amulet! the puppet boy thought. If it fell into the hands of the Vampyre Coven --

  He sprinted forward, his pine limbs clicking, drawing a loaded pistols from his belt as he rushed.

  Jumping over bodies, fallen horses, splashing in deep mud.

  He had lost his cutlass in the melee. But yesterday in Wolfweir castle, at Lucia's advice, he had loaded the twin dueling pistols with balls dipped in Holy Water.

  This, she'd said, could kill a Vampyre -- but only with a direct hit to the heart.

  He had little hope of that. Edward Blackgore was in full armor. As was his laughing Vampire Lady.

  But he only needed an instant's diversion.

  He got it. The Vampire Lord turned his head as Alphonse leaped. Alphonse fired point blank into Edward Blackgore's grinning mouth.

  As the Vampyre staggered wildly, his skull blown apart into a spray of brains and teeth and bone fragments, then quickly recombining into the same greenish-pale grinning mask, Alphonse darted past him, slid on his belly through the blood soaked mud, and snatched the Blood Amulet from its chain.

  He heard Lady Blackgore's screech. But he had the Blood Amulet, clenched in his fist. He stuffed it into a pocket of his tunic, under the battle armor, even as he stuck the smoking pistol back into his belt and yanked out its twin.

  Jumping to his feet, he saw Lady Blackgore ride at him, the lance point leveled at his puppet chest.

  He fired. The ball smashed into her steel breastplate, and the Vampyre Lady somersaulted backward from the saddle.

  Ha ha!

  The horse kept charging, nostrils and eyes wide, nearly mad from the savage sounds and sights of battle.

  Alphonse, sticking the pistol into his belt to free both hands, dodged aside and, smoothly as smoke, stepped into the dangling stirrup and launched himself into the saddle.

  Grabbing at the wild black streaming mane with both wooden hands, clamping his pine knees tight, he stayed hard and low in the saddle as his new mount flew like a proverbial vampire bat out of the black cave of hell, plunging through and out of the mass of tangled and clashing bodies.

  Right into the cold, dark, deep and rushing river.

  Rats

  Lucia di Fermonti, Queen of Wolfweir Castle, crouched in the reeking darkness of the low narrow tunnel. Startled by a spiderweb, she'd dropped her torch. It rolled around, flaming, then hissed out.

  But there were other torches moving up from behind her. She waited until she could see clearly by the wavering illumination. Looking over her shoulder, she saw two Boy Wolves. They were identical: twins. Both had the same silly tufts of dark fur sticking up from behind their wide human ears.

  -My Queen? asked one, uncertainly.

  It was Cedric. She recognized him now. The other was Jason.

  -My torch fell. It went out.

  Lucia's teeth were clicking. She was covered in spiderwebs.

  -Assist me, please, she whispered.

  There was no need to whisper. They were deep in the dripping tunnel. It was much like the sewer through which she and the puppet boy Alphonse had made their grandly stinking entry into Paris, that dawn before they left for the Alps and the Kingdom of Wolfweir.

  It didn't smell quite as nasty. Small mercies, Lucia thought, trembling at the clinging dampness of the cobwebs.

  -Yes Queen.

  The Boy Wolves came forward from their respectful distance and began to tear away the sticky webs. Lucia stood with her eyes shut. Gasping. Finally she stilled her panic.

  -Enough, she said.

  It was good enough. She could see clearly again and move without too much shuddering.

  They stepped back.

  -Onward, Lucia said. Give me your torch. We must go onward.

  From behind the boys boomed a wolfish voice:

  -Queen Lucia!

  A Wolf Man stepped forward. He was wearing a battle breastplate of leather and steel. One arm hung in a sling. He was caked in blood, most of it not his own. Missing his battle helmet, though he wore a sword at his side.

  -Malvic!

  She embraced him. Lightly, so as not to cause him injury.

  -Ah, he whispered into her golden hair. Ah. My good Queen. Leading your people now. Your father is a proud wolf tonight!

  Lucia wept a little. More of the women and children were coming up through the tunnel. The darkness evaporated: everywhere torches blazed. Lucia saw jagged veins of crystal in the rock.

  -Onward then, she said, wiping her eyes. I am at the front. Malvic, follow just behind. Boys, inspire the others with haste.

  With that, she drew a strong breath, pulled her dagger from its leather sheath and lunged into the darkness, slashing co
bwebs.

  At each slash a mass of spiderwebs parted and she stepped through it.

  Malvic holding the torch high so she could see her way clear.

  -How far to the Marshes? she shouted back at Malvic.

  -Perhaps another mile, my Queen.

  -Haste. Make haste everyone.

  She was moving faster now, sweating. A spider fell on her arm. She brushed it away and it hit the stone floor with a thump and scuttled out of the torch-light.

  -Ha, said Malvic. Admiringly. What a quick, brave Wolf Queen.

  Ahead suddenly she saw bluish blackness rather than the solid black of the tunnel. Then she heard rushing water.

  -We've made it, she cried, her voice ringing in the tunnel.

  A shout went up from the wolf people.

  -Hush! said Malvic, and the voices hushed.

  Lucia stepped from the tunnel into a foot of murky water. The cold shocked her. She splashed around a bit trying to get solid footing.

  -My Queen! Are you safe?

  -Yes. It's not deep. Come out quickly. Put out your torches first.

  The torches blinked out. The Wolf people began to thrash through the cold water, grasping at reeds.

  Some of the Wolf children sank into it up to their necks.

  -Hold each other's arms! said Lucia.

  Forming chain of arms the Wolf people waded into the darkness filled with muck and reeds.

  The sky was radiant. Stars in all directions but down.

  Then the night was shaken by a blast. The sky turned red for an instant. There was a distant clattering of stones.

  -They've blown the castle, said Malvic. It's over.

  Someone cried out:

  -A Vampire!

  -Hand me a bow! said Malvic.

  Jason splashed away into the watery dark and came back huffing and puffing, holding out a longbow and a small clutch of arrows bound with a leather cord.

  Malvic gave the boy his torch and took the bow and arrows. He plucked out and arrow, notched it onto the bowstring, and turned in a slow circle, whispering:

  -Where is the Vampire?

  A scuttling splash nearby.

  -There! cried a woman's shaking voice.

  The bowstring thunked. There was a squeal. Malvic waded over to a clump of reeds. Then he held up a large dead water rat by its tail. The arrow had gone right through its head.

  He dropped the water rat with a splash.

  -No Vampires. Just water rats. Be quiet everyone. Follow the Queen. Which way, my Queen?

  Lucia cleared her throat. At the shout of Vampires her mouth had gone dry with panic.

  -West. There are river barges hidden in a clump of old and mossy oaks.

  Jivalti had told her this. Where was she now? Had she stayed behind? Lucia's heart was thumping like a bird's.

  -Please lead on.

  Dawn

  The sky was growing light blue by the time they reached the barges and all the Wolf refugees were shivering from the cold of the water.

  The river barges were massive, long and flat bottomed boats half sunk in mud. They had been carefully covered with pine branches and reeds to conceal them.

  The pine branches were fresh and most of the reeds had been recently cut. Someone had tended to these boats with great respect, caulking any gaps in the sides or bottoms with tar.

  There were six barges. Swiftly, Lucia calculated that each would have to hold thirty people. Yes. It was possible.

  -Aboard, everyone, she hissed.

  Mist drifted in tendrils over the surface of the dark water, so that it looked as if the swamp was steaming.

  As the Wolf people boarded the big boats, shivering and splashing and coated with raw muck, Lucia was startled by a whirring of wings overhead. Malvic raised his bow, then lowered it.

  -Wild ducks, he said.

  The sun brimmed the horizon, shooting rays in all directions. Lucia felt its heat on her forehead. She shut her eyes.

  Alive. What ecstasy.

  And Alphonse?

  She wept a little, sniveling like a human child, until Malvec sat down beside her in the boat.

  The stronger Wolf boys would do the poling. Each boat had a dozen or so bamboo poles onboard just for that purpose.

  The bamboo poles clunked against the gunwales, then splashed in the marsh. The heavy boats shuddered and began to glide. Lucia wrapped her cloak tighter.

  -No speaking, she said. Quiet, all.

  The hum of voices stopped.

  A chill wind was rising from the north. Mountains appeared as if stamped in vastness.

  Driftwood

  Something bobbed in the sun glaring water. It sank then bobbed up again. It had a tarry look to it. Maybe it was a drum, or a piece of withered log, or --

  -It's Alphonse! Lucia screamed.

  All her body had gone cold and she was sweating.

  -Alphonse! Alphonse!

  He was missing his cap but she'd recognized the dark paint on his head -- it was supposed to be the puppet boy's black hair.

  Most of the body was underwater. She could make out a hand. Drifting in the glare.

  -Alphonse!

  She was screaming, slavering at the mouth. Malvic's arms kept her from leaping into the water. Crushing her chest.

  A Wolf boy extended a long pole with a hook on the end he'd found in the bow of the river barge.

  He touched the sinking-floating puppet hand with it. The head sank a little more and Lucia shrieked with agony.

  Then the hook caught a wooden arm and the puppet was pulled smoothly to the side of the boat and dragged aboard and set down with a clatter.

  Weeds clung to the legs. The wooden eyelids were shut.

  Lucia embraced the puppet. Clinging to it with her whole body as she retched and moaned.

  Around her, the people took off their caps, if they wore any.

  Malvic knelt, shutting his eyes, the good arm hanging as if he'd been shot down.

  Silence but for the murmur of water against the boat.

  The sun was high. It was getting hot. There had been no Vampires. Malvic had set down his bow about an hour before and dozed off with his knees draw up. And now he was awake to this new sadness.

  Suddenly the puppet jerked, and the hand tapped Lucia's tear slick cheek and fell back clattering, then jumped again.

  -Alive! He's alive! Turn him!

  A boy leapt forward and turned him and water gurgled from the puppet's mouth as the limbs clicked and jerked.

  Lucia was weeping madly, now from joy.

  The puppet's eyes clicked open. And little puppet Alphonse jumped to his feet, startling everyone.

  Magic

  Drifting along in the river, Alphonse hadn't been in his puppet body. Not at all.

  At first he was just nowhere.

  When his horse had plunged into the dark river, it had turned sideways in the current and he'd been swept from the saddle and bounced against floating bodies.

  Sinking, he'd torn off his breastplate armor. Then his body rose to the surface. His puppet arms flailed and splashed.

  Shots -- a whole crackling fusillade from the misty river bank.

  The river erupted in splashes around him and his head was knocked sideways by the glancing hit of a ball. He sank again, his mouth wide open, water gurgling into his hollow body.

  Desperate to live, even if only as this gaudy wooden figure of play, he wrenched and turned his body to swim with the current. To get away from the battle.

  Then something hit him hard --

  Waking with a jolt, his whole body in a sweat, Alphonse heard voices around him, the squeaking wheel of some sort of cart, the clatter of instruments on a tray.

  There was a bright halo of light beaming through his eyelids.

  His fleshly eyelids.

  His body was breathing. He could feel the blood pulsing in his fingertips. He smelled antiseptic soap.

  The hospital! Paris!

  He struggled to open his eyes. Failed. Tried again with
all his might.