Cinders of the Past: The Werewolf's Daughter

Nearly a month had passed since Luren was driven from Fenwall. He had ridden hard to put as much distance between him and the town and now rested at a riverbank. Water pooled into Luren’s cupped hands. Luren closed his eyes and splashed the cool liquid on his face. His eyes flicked open. A bitter taste settled on his lips. Luren scooped water to his mouth and drank. He swished the contents in his mouth then spat. Something died upriver and close too. Luren whistled. Shade, trotted out from the trees. He climbed atop the steed and traveled along the water. The sounds of the wildlife silenced, and the forest grew still. An uneasiness settled in Luren’s stomach. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his blade. Luren scanned his surroundings. Claw marks, gouged into a nearby tree, caught his eye. Luren rode forward to examine the marks. Despite sitting atop Shade, Luren still had to look up. He reached up and ran his fingers through the trenches carved into the bark. A terrible suspicion rose in Luren’s mind. “Shade, this was no bear.”

Shade inhaled sharply through his nose and stirred forward. Luren shifted to keep his position on the arboreal being.

“A warning would have been nice.”

Shade ignored Luren’s comment and pursued the scent he had picked up.

More trees were covered in claw marks and others in blood. Four half eaten bodies were strewn across the ground and another lay at the riverbank. Broken axes and shattered swords were scattered throughout the scene. No animal leaves marks or a mess like this. No doubt, it’s a werewolf and a powerful one too if animals are keeping their distance even after it left. Could this be one of the Pack? During his reign, Luren commanded more than armies of men. Monstrous beings answered his call, though only a few of them were as formidable as the pack. They should all be dead though. Cut down by the holy knights. Luren turned his gaze to Shade. “Is the scent familiar? Is it Crethan?”

Shade nodded his head.

What in the blood-soaked hell are you doing out here Crethan? “Can you follow his scent?”

The horse hesitated to answer.

Luren eased the tension in his voice. “Shade, take me to Crethan. I understand why you’re in no rush to see him again, but we must confront him. He can’t harm you again.”

Putting aside his fear, Shade smelled the air once more and then galloped off in pursuit of the werewolf.

***

Events long passed played through Luren’s mind. When he lived under a different name. Crethan’s voice echoed in his head. “I will not lead my pack on a suicide mission! Tyrant Malpharn, you can’t be serious.”

“You will do as your master commands, dog. Or you will be put down like a mongrel.”

Crethan’s expression hardened. “Then I put forth my challenge to you - single combat for the freedom of my pack.”

An amused smile crept across Malpharn’s face. “The Crimson Tyrant hears your challenge and will gladly accept. We shall meet outside the walls of my city in one hour. Be ready, mongrel.”

The hour passed in a quick, hectic manner. Attendants, members of court and many others had gathered to watch the fight. Malpharn sat upon Shade whose dark coat glistened in the sunlight. With a spear in one hand and his black blade at his side, Malpharn watched Crethan walk onto the field, clad in the ancestral furs of his pack - a deerskin shirt and a cloak made of bear fur. The werewolf held a massive, bearded ax in his hands. “After three generations, my pack will be free of you.”

Malpharn grinned. “Dogs never learn.”

Crethan let out a howl. Dark brown fur grew on him, and his body grew three times its size. “I’m going to cut your fucking head off and feed your body to my pack. We’ll see if you can come back from that.”

Malpharn said nothing as he lowered his spear. Crethan remained where he stood readying his ax, signaling he was ready. Malpharn stirred Shade into a gallop. He lowered his spear, ready to pierce the werewolf's chest. Crethan raised his axe, as if to swing. As the distance closed between the two, Crethan threw the axe. The weapon cleaved through Shade’s front legs. The horse collapsed. Malpharn flew off his mount onto the ground. A whinny and a heavy crunch cut through the air. Luren saw Crethan holding Shade’s head in his arms and watched as the horse went limp.

Malpharn rose and drew his sword. “I’m going to break you, Crethan. I want you to know that you and your kin will always be my pets, and when I tell you to do something you will do it.” Malpharn ran the palm of his hand along the edge of his black blade. The sword bit into his hand and drank deeply from the wound.

Fear washed over Crethan’s lupine face. He ripped his axe out from under Shade’s body and bolted towards Malpharn.

Malpharn pointed the sword towards Crethan. The blade rippled like pond water disturbed by a stone. An ink black locust emerged from sword. Then, another emerged, followed by hundreds more. The locusts engulfed Crethan. The werewolf was lost in a blanket of demon spawn. Howls of pain and terror were soon silenced by the drone of locust wings.

Content, Malpharn swung his sword, recalling the swarm. Crethan, now resembling a lump of gnawed meat, laid on the ground. The fur that was still on him had turned white. Malpharn gestured to the attendants. “Bring the water of the moon. I want him ready to leave by nightfall.”

***

Luren observed the figure of a lone, large, beast of a man marching down the road, a double headed battleax was slung over his shoulder. “No doubt about it. That’s Crethan,” Luren said. He spurred Shade forward.

Crethan halted in his tracks and turned around, readying his axe. He glared at Luren. “There’s no mistaking that scent. How the fuck are you still alive?”

Same crass mouth as always. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I didn’t want to be a decoration in some holy knight’s trophy room, so I fled.”

Luren cocked his head. “I didn’t think you’d have abandoned your pack.”

Small patches of fur began to appear on Crethan’s face as anger flared in his eyes. “They had all been killed by then. Silver and blessed weapons, the bastards were ready to face werewolves.” Crethan motioned to Luren with his axe. “And what about you? I heard that castle of yours collapsed in on you.”

“It did.”

“So that little gift of yours can even save you from your skull being caved in?”

A shiver crawled up Luren’s spine as memories of being buried alive resurfaced in his mind. “It took a few days for my body to heal enough so I could dig myself out, not that I had any real sense of time under the rubble,” Luren chewed his lip. “I saw those men you killed. What are you doing?”

Crethan took a step forward. “Looking for my daughter. What are you doing? Looking to piece your shattered kingdom back together?”

Luren blinked. “I didn’t take you for a family man, Crethan,” Luren said, trying to dodge the question.

Crethan’s expression softened. “I didn’t either.”

“Where’s your wife?”

The fur began to recede from Crethan’s face, tears had settled in his eyes. “Dead.”

For the first time in his life, Luren saw more than just the monster in Crethan. He found that he pitied the man. “I’ll help you find your daughter.”

“I’m not interested in helping you reclaim your power. So, if you’re expecting me -”

Luren shook his head. “I’m not trying to retake my throne.”

“And yet, you still consider yours.”

The truth of Crethan’s words stung Luren. While he had no designs to retake Kaydhen, he could not deny that he still considered it his kingdom. “I built it, Crethan. I was a ruthless ruler, there’s no doubt about that. But Kaydhen never had the problems that it deals with now.”

Crethan spat. “The problems this kingdom faces are the ghosts of your rule, Malpharn.”

“That name and the man who used it died when that castle was torn down. My name is Luren.”

“Call yourself whatever you like, it doesn’t hide your sins. This land is tormented by enough of them.”

Annoyance gripped Luren. Someone who was complicit in my actions really thinks they can judge me. “And just which of my sins still torment Kaydhen?”

“Have you been living under a fucking rock these last ten years?”

“The forest near Fenwall.”

“Close enough. Since you really are clueless, let me fill you in. Much of your former kingdom is still recovering from the war, I’m sure even in Fenwall you’d be aware of that. This has only been prolonged because of several of your old commanders chose to be aspiring warlords rather than face their dues. Then there are the monsters you called upon that were driven into hiding and lash out whenever and wherever they can. Finally, your damn sister and her acolytes are making trouble.”

“Crethan. How did you learn about my sister? She was never the type to bring attention to herself. You know that as well as I do.”

“A werewolf is a powerful weapon, Mal- Luren. People like us don’t go unnoticed for long. The knight who found me was more pragmatic than his brothers.”

Skepticism painted itself across Luren’s face. “A holy knight? Pragmatic?”

“His name’s Kurst Dainbarr. He preaches to me about my sin of existence every time I see him. He’s still a zealot, it just so happens that he’s capable of seeing the real problem.”

“And what problem is that?”

Crethan’s eyes narrowed. “That even though those now in power are supposedly righteous people, they are horribly inefficient. The holy knights and the new king are our complete opposite.”

“Is that why you allowed yourself to be put on a leash again?”

“No. My daughter didn’t need to see her father be cut down and skinned before falling victim to the same fate. We make sacrifices for those we love. If my ‘service’ spares her such a fate, then I will serve.” Crethan turned and began walking. “Now, piss off. I’m going to save my daughter.”

Luren spurred Shade forward. “I told you I was going to help you. No strings attached.”

A low growl escaped Crethan. “Fine. We’ll make it to their camp by nightfall.”

“You already know where they’re hiding?”

“Their scent is on the wind. They split into smaller groups to make things more difficult for me to track them but I’m not an inexperienced pup. I also know they’ve got silver in that camp. They have no other reason to think that they’re safe in there.”

“Smart move for a group of brigands,” Luren observed. “But shouldn’t you have been able to pick up the scent of your daughter?”

“Each group had something of hers so I couldn’t pick up the right scent.” Frustration was plain to see on Crethan’s face.

They know how to deal with a werewolf, at least to some degree. “Where were you when they killed your wife and took your daughter?”

“On a task for Kurst. Had to put down some group belonging to the cult of Arnek Relan before they could do anything unnatural,” Crethan said. “I know what you’re thinking, I thought the same thing at first, but Kurst is the type to tie up loose ends himself and I haven’t picked up his scent.”

One worry was taken from his mind only to be replaced by a new one. An uneasiness twisted in Luren’s stomach. “The cult of Arnek Relan. I thought we had exterminated them.”

A chuckle escaped Crethan. “A group that is so foul and meticulous in their ways that even the Crimson Tyrant himself considers them to be a menace and you think we were able to snuff them out?”

“A group that conspires with the demons of damnation and who knows what else. I had to hope it was possible to rid the world of them.”

A cold voice prickled in Luren’s ear. “You always were a hypocrite, brother.”

Luren did his best to ignore the comment. “What were they trying to do?”

“Trying to bring Arnek back from Sulfuryon’s plane. At least that’s my best guess.”

“Not an easy task, but not impossible either. The Patron of Damnation can be fickle, and he loves to torment those who fail him.”

“How very lucky for us that the little shit is being tortured by his master. One man who refuses to die is more than enough,” Crethan eyed Shade. “And speaking of things that don’t die. Your horse. Is that-”

Luren nodded. “The horse you tore apart when you fought me for the throne? Yes, this is Shade.”

“Why am I not surprised that your horse doesn’t fucking die either? If he could come back as whatever this is,” Crethan motioned to Shade. “Why didn’t you keep him around?”

The dirt road crunched beneath boot and hoof. “Because he deserved to rest.”

“Many of us do. But this world we live in won’t allow it. People like you and me don’t find peace in life. Any peace we think we find is turned into a weapon against us.”

Luren’s thoughts turned to the attack on Fenwall. The fear and hatred from its people, and then, to the small gesture of goodwill from Lenna. “I disagree.”

“That so?”

“It’s when those times of peace are shattered that our characters are truly tested, and we see who we really are.”

“I’m sick of being tested. The gods can piss off and leave us alone,” Crethan said.

An unnaturally cold breeze passed over the pair causing a chill to run down their backs.

Before Luren could reply, a crossbow bolt struck him in the throat. He fell off his saddle and into the dirt, gagging and choking as he clutched his wound. A bestial roar bellowed out from Crethan; his ax was already in his hands. Thick gray fur appeared on his body.

A light, wispy voice sounded from behind a tree. “Renaul, you oaf! These aren’t brigands. They’re something much worse.” A short man wearing a tattered uniform stepped into view holding a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. A blue shield with five white stars could still be made out from the layer mud.

“You’re hunting those bastards too?”

Renaul came out of cover. He was a head taller than his companion but thinner and wore the same tattered garb. “We hunt all threats to the people of Kaydhen.”

Luren ripped the bolt from his throat. Blood poured from the open wound. The red liquid began to bubble and boil as his body healed. Luren stood. There was bloodstained skin where the bolt pierced him. “We’ve got your friends name, who are you?”

The man took a bow. “Ethenial, former captain of the King’s Daggers. And you must be the Crimson Tyrant.”

Taken aback, Luren cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t look so surprised. There’s not a man in the world who rides atop a monster and travels alongside a werewolf.”

Luren gave a small smile. “Or survives a bolt expertly shot into his neck.”

Ethenial sheathed his weapons. “The legends hold some truth then. And it seems my former superiors had reason to fear your return.”

A cool dread settled over Luren. “They’re still afraid of me? Are they still searching for me?’

“They never recovered a body and so they assume the worst. As to your second question, yes. Anytime a monster, cult, or warlord shows their face they assume you’re behind it.”

“Wouldn’t you consider me a threat to Kaydhen’s people?” The words left Luren’s mouth before he could consider the question. A silence settled between the four men.

Renaul gave him a small shrug. “Are you?”

“No.” Luren's voice was stern.

“Not that we could do anything if you were,” Ethenial said. He turned his gaze towards Crethan “But we can kill the brigands prowling the area.”

“Suits me.” Crethan continued his path down the road.

Ethenial glanced back to Luren. “He’s not one for talking, is he?”

“Not with strangers.” Luren followed Crethan.

The group traveled the dirt path until the sun was at their backs. They came upon a hill in the forest and rested at the top. Luren could make out a small clearing a few miles away. A thin stream of smoke wafted to the sky. Luren pointed towards the clearing. “Is that where they are, Crethan?”

Crethan tilted his head back as he drew a deep breath through his nose. He nodded. “That’s my daughter’s scent,” he turned towards Luren. “If you have a plan, share it.”

“You’re putting your faith in me?”

“Just this once, I’m trusting you to be the man I followed a decade ago.”

Luren felt a hard gaze from the others fall on him. He slipped the crimson great helm on. Red armor began to appear on his body until he was encased in crimson metal. “I am not the man you followed all those years ago. But we will save your daughter, I promise.”

“Promises are all well and good, but we still need a plan if you’re going to keep yours.”

Etherial stepped forward. “Renaul and I can help with that. We snuck a peek at their camp a few days ago. There were far too many brigands for the two of us to handle, but now, we can do something about it.”

“Do they have any defenses?” Luren asked.

Renaul cleared his throat. “There’s a palisade around their camp. They have a small gate at the entrance that’s always protected by two guards. From my count there was another sixteen in the camp. That was after a group of twelve left to cause trouble.”

A look of satisfaction settled on Crethan’s face. “They won’t be any trouble. Most of them anyway.”

“I believe I have a plan,” Luren said.

***

Luren strode towards the gate which was illuminated by torchlight. The moon lit his path as it watched him from the heavens. Its pale face was nearly full. Luren was clad in his armor and rested a hand on his blade. The two men at the gate readied their axes as he approached. “Are you lost, stranger? Or just fucking stupid?’

“It seems you’re the one who’s stupid, piss-ant. Do you not know the Tyrant when he comes?”

The man shook his head and blinked. He looked to his companion and back to Luren. He appeared to retreat into himself. “Well, what do you want from us?”

Taking a step forward into the light Luren raised his voice so that all within the camp could hear. “Your leader. Bring him out here. I would speak with him and see if this rabble is worth the Crimson Tyrant’s consideration.”

A moment of silence settled over the camp. Luren held the man’s gaze, watching as terror built itself within him at a steady pace. His companion fared no better as he cowered behind a shield. The gate groaned open, startling to the two men protecting it. Twelve brigands joined the pair. One, no doubt emboldened by their number called out to Luren. “Meaning no disrespect, but Raz said he’s not interested in talking to you. So, it’d be best for you to move along and leave us be.”

Luren drew his sword from its scabbard, the moon reflected on its black blade. “You speak as if any of you can make me,” Luren gestured to the group. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

There was a hesitance in the group. No man dared to meet Luren’s challenge. A voice bellowed out from inside the camp. “It’s one man. If you fuckers don’t bring me his head, I’ll have your heads instead!”

That must be Raz. He must have quite the temper.

The brigands began moving forwards. They were slow at first, reluctance weighing them down. As the group accepted the circumstances that they had found themselves in, they picked up speed. Luren raised his sword to the sky, then pointed the blade at the group bearing down on him. Crethan, covered in fur, burst from the trees on Luren’s left and pounced upon the brigands with his battleax. The brigands’ blades found Crethan’s hide too tough to pierce. From Luren’s right, Ethenial struck like lightning. The man danced around their enemy, his sword and dagger finding soft flesh hiding under old leather. The two men from the gate rushed Luren. A bolt struck the one on the left between the ribs, embedding itself in his lung. The man dropped. Luren cut down the last foe. He walked into the camp, flanked by Crethan and Ethenial. They made their way past weathered tents towards a small cabin that rested at the end of the camp.

Crethan growled. “This plan better work, Luren.”

“I trust Renaul’s aim. You should too.”

“I’ll trust it when this ‘Raz’ is dead.”

Four men stood guard outside the cabin. Crethan moved to engage them. Luren stayed him with a hand. “Don’t be hasty Crethan, we need Raz out in the open,” Luren stepped forward. The four men readied their weapons. “Raz! No more of your underlings need to die. Come out here and treat with me.”

There was no answer from the cabin. The men gave Luren pleading looks. A small part of Luren wished to spare them and turn them in to the authorities instead of killing them.

One of the four, a young man, spoke, “If we put down our arms, will you let us li-”

The door of the cabin opened. A crossbow bolt struck the young man, the tip peeked out just below his eye as he fell to the ground. An older man, covered in scars, stood in the doorway. He held a dagger to a young girl’s throat with one hand and struggled to hold a crossbow in the other. “Not a bad shot,” he spat on the dead man. “Fucking traitor.”

The girl’s eyes locked on Crethan. “Father!”

“Stay calm Sara.”

Raz struck the girl’s head with the back of the crossbow. “Shut your mouth girl and load the crossbow like I told you.” Sara, whimpering, loaded the crossbow.

Anger swelled like a fire in Luren’s veins. “So, you must be Raz.”

“And you’re the Crimson Tyrant. Lemme guess, you’re here to get this pup. Rebuilding your armies?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Raz held the flat of the blade to Sara’s throat. Steam rose from her flesh when the metal met her skin. Sara cried out in pain.

“You bastard!” Crethan moved forward only to be stopped by Raz turning the edge of the silver dagger back to Sara’s throat.

“The girl’s mine. She’ll be the first of many breeders,” Raz met Luren’s glare. “I’ve got an army of my own to make, but if you try to kill me, I’ll cut the bitch’s throat out of spite.”

Luren turned his gaze to Crethan. The man was fighting with himself. His rage pushed him to let out the beast within himself and transform completely. He’s putting his trust in the plan and keeping himself in check.

Ethenial was the one to speak first, “Meaning no disrespect, but you a bit old to breed an army. I don’t think you’d live long enough to see it.”

“Arnek Relan’s cult has the means of speeding up the process. They scratch my back, I scratch theirs. I carve out my own territory and they can operate as they please under my protection. A useful group to keep around, don’t you think?”

A freezing voice bit Luren’s ear. “It must be like looking in a mirror for you, brother.”

Luren’s grip on his blade tightened. I was delusional, and I consorted with powers beyond my comprehension thinking I could create a kingdom whose people were without worry. “I’m nothing like this man,” Luren murmured.

“You say something, Tyrant?”

“It wasn’t directed towards you”

“Forget it then. Here’s what’s going to happen - you’re going to let me walk out of here with what’s left of my men. But first you’re going to kill you’re companions.”

A low growl escaped Crethan. “What?”

A grin grew on Raz’s scarred face. “The Tyrant might not die, but his friends certainly can. And you will. Call it reparations for killing so many of my men.”

Luren spied movement at the top of the cabin. It was Renaul. Need to draw him out. “You’re a fool, Raz,” Luren said. “You can’t even begin to understand the forces toying with you.”

Raz’s grin twisted into a scowl as anger took over the man. “A fool?” He took a step forward. “You’re the one who lost.” Raz took a second step. “Did one of those stones from your castle knock your head too hard, you- “Before another word could leave his lips a bolt from Renaul’s crossbow pierced the back of Renauls neck. The man collapsed. His dagger fell to the ground.

Sara ran to her father. Crethan took her in his embrace.

Luren addressed the remaining brigands, “Lay down your arms and I will let you leave in peace.”

The three men dropped their weapons and began to flee. Renaul shot and killed one. Ethenial cut down the other two without effort.

“Why?” Luren shot a hard stare at Ethenial.

“I’m afraid, we couldn’t let them leave.”

“Enough blood has been spilled! You didn’t need to kill these men.”

Ethenial shook his head. “If they left, what would they have done? Go into hiding and try to live the life of a pariah? They would have found someone more like Raz or worse and continued to hurt people.”

Luren sheathed his blade. “You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you. You can’t give everyone a second chance. I understand your trying to turn over a new leaf but letting every murderer and rapist go because you’ve lost the stomach for killing will only hurt more people.”

A small hand tugged at Luren’s arm. He turned and found Sara looking up at him. “Thank you, sir. My father says that you are old friends.”

Luren removed his helmet. He gave the girl a sympathetic smile. “We’ve known each other for a long time. I’m sorry about your mother.”

Tears welled in Sara's brown eyes. “Thank you.”

Crethan approached Luren. “I appreciate your help. The Crimson Tyrant wouldn’t have helped me save my daughter.” He offered his hand.

Luren accepted Crethan’s hand. “If I ever become ‘that’ again, please stop me. Kill me if you have to.”

“How can I kill something that doesn’t die?”

Luren took the werewolf in a tight embrace and whispered in his ear, “My sister has told me of two ways to slay an Undying. It can only be done with a weapon blessed by the gods.”

“And the second way?”

“Only an Undying can kill an Undying without aid.”