The Broken Pieces(74)

The exit was pain and torment, and it left a great feeling of emptiness in his chest, but overpowering it all was a sudden, intense sensation of freedom. Redclaw stepped back, gasping in air. Standing in the center of a fire that could no longer burn him was Warfang, even taller than Redclaw, his arms rippling with muscle.

“Let a judgment be made,” Redclaw cried out before Warfang might act. “Not by pack, but by every wolf here. Those who reject Cyric as god come with me. We will find ourselves a home. Beyond that, I make no promises but one, that we shall be free of all gods, and never again slaves to man.”

Redclaw held his breath and waited. This was it. Would he slink away without a pack at all?

The first were his two pups. They ran on all fours to join him, and he took them into his arms. For once, he could hold them without fear of burning. Next followed Silver-Ear, limping to his side with her head bowed in respect. More came, first a trickle, then a flood. Of the five hundred, a fifth stood with him in the center. When it was clear no more would join, Redclaw turned to Warfang, who had watched silently.

“Hold to your word,” Redclaw said.

“I will,” said Warfang. “And you are right. This power is of a god, Redclaw, and I will enjoy it greatly. You are a fool to have rejected it.”

“We shall see.”

“Run fast,” Warfang shouted to the small pack as they turned north. “If Cyric demands your heads, I will not deny him!”

Nor did Redclaw expect him to. But with his hundred, he would grow. He would build a pack to rival all packs. The shamans were right, he saw that now. The human lands would not be conquered, not by a mere tribe. Not with so few. And even at Cyric’s side, they could conquer the entire world yet never have lands of their own. Forever they would be slaves.

“No,” Warfang said when Redclaw turned to go. “Not you.”

“You promised…”

“I promised those who followed you would live. I never said you.”

Redclaw met his eyes, saw the mockery and death in them.

“Come to me, my pups,” he said. They did, and to Redclaw’s relief Warfang gave him that shred of honor. The first he licked across the forehead, then ran a claw along the back of his neck.

“Manfeaster, I name you,” he said. To the second he did the same. “Moonslayer, I name you. Now go. Go!”

They ran to Silver-Ear, who beckoned them.

“I will raise them,” she said, standing as tall as her old back allowed. “They will honor you in their time. Not Karak. Not the moon.”

The pack left, and so many cast frightened looks seeing their pack leader remaining behind. Warfang towered over him, a gleam in his eye.

“I will not fight,” Redclaw said. “I give you no sport.”

“I don’t want sport. I want blood.”

Warfang’s claws slashed out, ripping the flesh of his chest and slicing open his belly. To his stomach he collapsed, nose striking the dirt. Far ahead of him he saw his pack running. His pups did not look back, and for that, he was proud. As he felt chills spreading throughout his body, he arced his neck so he might stare up at the sky.

“Forgive us,” Redclaw whispered to the moon. “But even you will no longer have our worship. We are free. Free…”

And free they ran, to the prison made for them by man, as Redclaw bled until he died.





22



There were so many wounded, and with only Jerico and Darius to tend them, the day passed long and tiring. At last, when Jerico’s eyes were blurred and his head pounded hard enough to make his stomach ill, they finished. By then night was fast approaching, and the combined armies would make no march.

“You’ve done us a miracle,” said an older man who had tended the wounded while they waited for the paladins to come heal them as they lay on the bloody grass. He was the surgeon for the mercenaries traveling with Luther, and while the rest of Karak’s faithful had treated the two with disdain, the surgeon had welcomed them gladly.

“No miracles, not by my hands,” Jerico said, nearly losing his balance as he stood. “Through them, maybe.”

“Whichever way makes you feel better,” said the surgeon.

“You need to rest,” Darius said, grabbing Jerico by the arm to steady him.

“And you don’t?”

Darius grinned.

“A strong wind will blow me over, yet you look like you don’t need even that to fall on your ass.”

Jerico let out a chuckle.

“If you insist. Food does sound good right now, though…”

An hour later, after they’d drunk their fill of water and ate the salted meats Daniel’s men brought them, Jerico stripped off his armor and lay before a fire.