The Broken Pieces(30)

That he might not be Karak at all, he dared not let that thought enter his head, as much as it screamed at him from every subdued part of his intellect with voices that were steadily growing stronger, belonging to demons infesting his soul.



The hunt went well, though it’d taken longer to reach the nearest rival encampment than expected. It seemed the massing number of wolf-men had made the other races of the Vile Wedge skittish. They’d run beneath the stars, until at last Redclaw’s hunting party encountered a tribe of a hundred bird-men. Gangly things, their meat would not be pleasant, but he dared not continue further looking for more appetizing game, not with how far they’d already traveled. Descending upon them like a monster of the Abyss, Redclaw led the attack, crushing all but a scattered few that fled every which way in the night.

Each of the fifty wolf-men carried a body over their shoulder, some dead, some not. Back at the camp they were greeted with much celebration. Redclaw ate little, his appetite strangely missing for having just completed a hunt. He stripped feathers off a thick slab of thigh, gave it to his two pups, and then watched them eat. They were only a year old, and not yet speaking or walking on their hind legs. One day, they’d challenge him for rule, but what would they rule if they won? Would it be a wretched stretch of yellow grass beside a cold river, or would it be miles and miles of green hills filled with bountiful game?

Thinking himself alone, Redclaw looked down at his upturned paw. With a single flex, he watched fire trace through his veins, watched the heat turn the tips of his claws a vibrant red. Cyric had told him they would melt through even the finest armor of men, but Cyric had promised lots of things.

“Greetings, Wolf King,” Silver-Ear said, disrupting his thoughts. Redclaw bowed his head in respect.

“You honor me, shaman,” he said.

“Then I ask that you honor me in return, and walk with me for a bit. I wish to speak.”

Redclaw rose to his feet. The bigger of his two pups turned his way and yipped once. Redclaw reached down, then stopped, remembering the heat of his claws. He’d learned to control it, mostly, but he dared not risk it.

“Stay here,” he told them, and the firmness of his look conveyed his desire. Both whimpered, then returned to eating. Redclaw took up step beside Silver-Ear, and together they walked west, toward the river and away from the rest of the camp.

“It seems so long ago, doesn’t it?” Silver-Ear said, her voice dry, as if she’d been coughing a lot recently. “Do you remember when you were first named Wolf King, and faced the moonless dark?”

“I do,” Redclaw said. “I remember it well. You had me breathe in the smoke of Goldmoon petals, then crawl through a cave of bat shit.”

Silver-Ear smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

“That I did, though do not pretend I did it for no reason.”

“I know. You did it to amuse yourself. That is reason enough for most.”

This time Silver-Ear’s laugh did reach her eyes. She glanced back at the camp, let out a sigh.

“You command a great force, Wolf King,” she said. “Far greater than before. The last time we crossed the river, there were many who fled, and many more who stayed away. They did not believe you their king. They thought you would die, and they would steal your lands. Such simple dreams they have, and always will.”

“That is why they need their king,” Redclaw said.

“Is it now?” Silver-Ear asked. “What if we were meant for simple dreams?”

Redclaw stopped, and he let out a soft growl to show his disapproval. They were far from the camp now, at the base of a stump of a hill. Large sections of it were bare, the grass long ago dried up and dead.

“You speak in riddles, shaman,” he said. “Speak plainly, if you would speak at all.”

“Warfang has broken the packs up to fight, each numbering one hundred. We have ten, Redclaw, ten such packs to cross the river. And what is it we aim to do? What is it our god commands us to accomplish?”

“We’re to conquer,” Redclaw said.

“Yes,” Silver-Ear said. “Conquer all of mankind, forcing every village to kneel. We attacked one such village, Redclaw. Do you remember? Do you remember our dead, numbering greater than we could count? We shamans speak ill of humans, but not because we are fools. We do this so great wolves like you will not be afraid. But listen to me now, and hear what we’ve always known. You are not the first to have crossed the river west, nor will you be the last. A hundred times it has happened, many miles south and north, and not just by wolf-men. We listen, we watch, and then we return to tell the others what we have known since the birth of our fathers’ fathers: we will never, ever escape the Wedge.”