Chapter 94: The Die is Cast (1/2)

I push Metis onward. The mass of wolves in quadrupedal form smells the air, then reluctantly parts before us. Their instincts, pushed by the curse, still see anything with four legs as prey.

Fortunately, Metis does not behave like prey. At all. Some of the more adventurous wolves are still healing from having an ear nipped off. What can I say? Metis is a gourmet.

It helps that we do not smell like their usual fare either.

Finally, we arrive in front of Augustus’ personal guard, an improvised squad resulting from remnants of packs brought together by revenge. They may not be the largest specimens, but they make up for it in aggression.

They refuse to give way.

Metis lets out a low-pitched neigh, the flesh-eating equine equivalent of “just try me.” Before someone gets hooved into the frozen ground, the man of the hour steps forth.

I have to admit that he looks better now than he did a few nights ago. His exhaustion left way to dark determination and his previously messy hair is now tied back, showing his square jaw and carved cheeks to his advantage. He wears only leather pants under a jacket left open to reveal the muscular chest underneath. With his grim air and the background of frozen wastes, he looks like some barbarian king in a raunchy novel.

The wind blowing at my back prevents the wolf stench from coalescing into a noxious cloud of nauseating horror, allowing me to appreciate the moment.

“What is it, Ariane?” he finally asks.

“We have hit a hurdle and will need to conduct some measure of diplomacy. Your presence would be appreciated,” I state.

Interestingly, Augustus will never take any orders, especially not in public. Even the most sensible instructions are answered by a silent glare. A well-formulated request will always come across, however. In this regard, he is abnormally rational. It makes communicating with him both easy and difficult.

This time again, he can read between the lines. A nod and a raised fist are all it takes for his personal guard to split before him and open us a path back. The horde stops in the valley behind us as we move up the slope to a line of pines tucked along a ridge. Frost, Melusine and Melitone are waiting for us at the edge.

Only Melusine and I are mounted right now, on our respective Nightmares. We all wear armor, even Melitone who will definitely not take part in the fight despite her insistence that she can take care of herself.

“Are we ready?” I ask.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” the Servant replies with hunger in her eyes. Being sidelined from the conflict is eroding her patience, which I understand only too well.

I take the center with Mel and Augustus to my right and Melusine and Frost to my left. The valley’s pale light disappears as the snow-covered branches progressively block off the sky. Frost picks a pair of glasses from his pocket and casually places them on his nose, looking like a distinguished entomologist on a hike, never mind the cold.

The stomping of hooves heralds their coming.

Five shapes emerge from the gloom, appearing seamlessly from behind trees as if they had been there all along.

Lamellar armors, gruesome weapons, and dark expressions to match.

Knights.

More specifically, the usual squad plus Jimena. Sergei of the Kalinin is the only one mounted on a Nightmare covered in mail. He himself wears a helm and carries with him a long spear. A massive two-handed axe hangs from his back.

The rest of his team has not changed much. Alec is still stoic, Alaric still smiling playfully with his hands twirling daggers and Aisha gives no sign of recognizing me, eyes fixed forwards and face covered by her veil. No one knows yet that the Amaretta vampire and I are allied.

“I think you owe us some sort of explanation,” Sergei begins.

“I don’t owe you anything,” I immediately retort in English, then stop when Jimena discreetly coughs. Her light protest curbs my anger. She is right, this is no time to be arguing. We are on a schedule.

“However,” I continue, “for the sake of cooperation, I will gladly inform you that we are on the way to Fenris’ horde to kill him.”

Sergei’s glance stops on Augustus who studiously ignores him, then on the dense formation of transformed wolves down on the plain. They sit patiently on their haunches, looking towards where we disappeared with eerie focus, a sea of eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“You are bringing an army of werewolves next to another army of werewolves and expect them to fight each other,” he observes, and I recognize his use of English as a courtesy.

“Yes.”

“Is your confidence based on facts?”

“They have done it before,” I reply, not particularly surprised by the knight’s distrust. I notice that while Anatole was immediately dismissive, Sergei is merely dubious. My instincts tell me that he could be convinced.

“You there,” the haughty knight says as he addresses the werewolf, “will you really fight your own kind?”

An awkward silence descends on the assembly as Augustus stares Sergei in the eyes. His bravery is commendable, if foolish. I have not tried to dominate Augustus and I have no doubt that his status as leader affords him some degree of protection, but against a Master? I would not bet on it.

I intervene before the pissing contest degenerates and we accidentally end up at odds with some of the deadliest fighters on the continent.

“My dear Augustus, would you kindly inform sir knight as to what you intend to do to Fenris once we reach his horde, please?”

“My packs will open the path, then I will face Fenris in single combat and slay him. With the horde under my control, we will return north.”

“No you won’t,” Sergei retorts.

“Yes, he will,” I pointedly insist.

“Are you betraying us, Devourer? These creatures killed several of us!”

“You are mistaken, Sergei. They killed several Rolands.”

“If I may, Ariane?” Melitone interrupts with a pleasant voice, “as Constantine’s representative in this matter, I believe I can bring this disagreement to a close.”

She turns to Sergei, whose expression has become more guarded. His caution is soon proven to be warranted.

“The Speaker mandated Ariane to protect Detroit and bring the werewolf invasion to a close. I judge that Ariane’s plan to dethrone Fenris and disband his army not only satisfies the Roland request, it does so in a way that significantly reduces the risks of further casualties on our forces. She acts under our orders and with our approval.”

“The werewolves united once; they can do so again! We should purge as many as we can now, or they will spread again like an infestation!”Sergei retorts.

“You can do so on your own free time. Our current objective is liberation, not extermination.”

“The objective changed when the knight squad—” the knight spits, before being interrupted by Melitone taking a step forward. Sergei frowns in disapproval before realizing who she speaks for.

“Constantine said you might react this way. He also said that under the Accords, which your organization agreed on respecting while you operate on our territories, Speaker-mandated missions take precedence over knight authority. He added, and I quote, ‘if Sergei has difficulties understanding the standing agreement, I will be compelled to travel north and explain it to him in person.’ I will add that not only will it be an extremely unpleasant experience, he is also currently working on guardian golems for your Carpathian fortress. Who knows what unforeseen delays the project would face if he were to be disturbed?”

Frost and Augustus look on with interest as the knight squad leader grits his teeth. The number of hostile factions I am supposed to assist just bumped to three. Watcher grant me patience, I just want to eat them all and be done.

I can tell that Sergei has reached a decision when he slowly relaxes the death grip on his spear.

“I suppose it will be up to us to deal with the consequences of your short-sightedness, as usual. In the meanwhile, please do share your strategy so that we may coordinate.”

Progress. Such as it is.

I explain the plan in English. The knights all stare in the distance as they attempt to visualize what we intend to do, except Jimena who looks positively ecstatic.

“I must admit that it sounds both simple and actionable,” Sergei says after a delay, “I do have a few reservations.”

“Do tell,” I reply, expecting more nonsense.

“First, how can you be sure that the horn won’t affect the other wolves? Would it not be counterproductive to make them stronger?”

“It won’t affect them the same way a firebolt does not explode in your face. Magic is about intent. Besides, it already worked once.”

Sergei nods and his gaze lingers on the artifact slung over my shoulders. I will have to be careful after the battle if I want to keep my word, which I do. If I can operate the horn, perhaps he can as well.

“Very well,” Sergei continues, “I was also wondering why you have to charge through the ranks. Can your champion not simply issue a challenge?”

“I will take that one,” Augustus interrupts. To my surprise, Sergei lets him.

“Fenris is a snake. He will delay us until he can have his skald blow the horn in turn. The only reliable way to force him to duel is through a violent challenge that he cannot ignore.”

“I see. One last question: how certain are you that you can defeat him?”

“Completely so. I have seen him fight before.”

I did not know. Augustus has remained tight-lipped about his past and I have not pried. I just hope that his confidence is warranted. Our whole plan hinges on it.

Well not entirely. If he loses the fight, I will assassinate his head skald then flee through Augustus’ horde before Fenris can turn it on me. This course of events will most likely eliminate me from the contest, and yet I am committed now, and the appearance of the knights only confirms that I made the right choice. With their assistance, Lazaro will succeed then claim that he eliminated the werewolf threat. It will matter little that he had their help.

No, I must gamble.

I hate this. I prefer to approach a problem patiently and then, when the circumstances are right, I can let go in full confidence. The human part of me plans and the vampire part pounces, as it should be. All this uncertainty is grating on my nerves.

“Well, I am convinced. Your rationality and flexibility impress me, Ariane.”

Oh, wow. What a surprise, I can be rational.

Who would have thought?

I snap.

All the tension of the last few days. The backstabbing, including the one I caused. The constant insults. Accommodating all those giant egos and more than that, the constant stink of the horde. And now this?

“You are impressed?” I sweetly start, “Really? You are impressed? Because I came up with a viable plan? Blimey Sergei, the Devourer had a plan! It is almost as if I was not just a dumb brute! Almost as if, you know, I successfully escaped the Lancasters as a fledgling, then hid without worry for a DECADE! Protected my territory with a Dvergur fucking king and learned painting and engineering! It’s almost as if it took me repelling a FULL-SCALE INVASION, DESTROYING A CULT TO THE LAST MAN AND SLAYING THE HOLDER OF THE KEY OF BERIAH IN SINGLE COMBAT FOR YOUR CLOWNISH TWAT OF A PREDECESSOR TO FINALLY FIND ME!”

I am slightly raising my voice at this stage, but I do believe that my slight annoyance is warranted.

“I governed a town for twenty bloody years and destroyed a mercenary army with my own militia which I trained and equipped from scratch. I liberated a Gabrielite prison. I slew that absolute prick Lambert in a duel and drank his sorry hide dry. I have led raids and successful infiltrations, heists even! I am a demolition expert, a sharpshooter, a smith and a scholar of the magical arts. I am currently at the head of an alliance of people who would normally kill each other on sight, but no that didn’t count for shit you cockless fuckwit! The Devourer is an airhead! Oh look, she managed to tie her shoes! FUCK YOU! I AM FED UP OF NOT BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY. DO YOU TOSSPOTS NOT BELIEVE IN RESULTS? HUH? IF YOU PAID ATTENTION TO ANYTHING I EVER DID YOU WOULD KNOW I SUCCEED MORE OFTEN THAN NOT. NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FOLLOW MY PLAN AND STOP BITCHING, OR I’LL SHOVE YOUR SCRAWNY COLLECTIVE ARSES IN A NAVY GUN AND SPLATTER THEM OVER THE ATLANTIC! FUCK!”

I only stop when I realize that Jimena is patiently patting my hand. She walked all the way to Metis without me realizing it.

All the other vampires are staring at me with horror while Augustus looks strangely pleased. Melitone is smiling proudly and Frost has walked a few steps away, trying not to choke on his laughter.

“This… appears to be a sensitive topic,” Sergei finally says with some hesitation.

“There, there…” Jimena continues with an amused grin.

I cannot fathom what happened. I am normally so calm, my mind turned cold by my own nature. This outburst was so very… human.

Perhaps I am suffering from some sort of fatigue.

I remember when fighting side by side with Loth against Ascendency and their borrowed British forces. The fighting had gone on for days and towards the end, I had turned primal. Not rogue since I was still in control. Primal. All of my instincts were so close to the surface that every problem appeared as if they could be solved with overwhelming violence.

I may be facing the opposite problem now. Working with the werewolves, assassinating Mornay and contending with the Cadiz indirectly are political games. I may just need a good slaughter. A battle where I do not have to run.

Sergei interrupts my musings.

“Ahem, yes. In any case, the plan is sound and we will support it. I will now share more about what we had planned ourselves.

I perk up at this revelation as Jimena steps back and returns to her fellow knights without a word.

I really love her for that: the little things she does without a word, without need for recognition. It conveys more affection than hours of discourse.

“We have been helping the Cadiz for a night now. They are entrenched in a valley west of York, under siege by the army you mentioned since five days ago. Our plan was to have the vampires do a sortie, forcing a reaction from the man you called Fenris. Using that distraction, we would have flanked them and inflicted heavy losses before withdrawing. If possible, we would have killed their leaders too.”

“Sortie? Are they not heavily outnumbered?” Melusine asks.

“Quite so, but they have mobility and a fallback position. We also lack options: the Cadiz only numbered five and lost a member on the first night. They have been conservative since then, but time is not on their side.”

“How did they hold for a week?” I ask with eyes narrowed.

“The first thing a Cadiz does when investing a new territory is to build a fortress,” Sergei patiently answers. Jimena nods to confirm this piece of information before explaining a bit more.

“Fortresses start as a sort of oppidum. My clan uses logs and packed earth to create a perimeter then expands underground in a way that a handful of men can hold it for a long time. Vampires assist in the building, considerably shortening the time it would take to complete the work.”

I bet, considering that the average master can carry a trunk in one hand. If the Cadiz managed to create a proper tower, the werewolves will have lost the numbers advantage. I doubt that they carry any siege equipment either. We should still hurry.

“Why is time not on their side?” Frost asks in turn. Sergei clearly hesitates. Rank is paramount for us, and Frost’s position is still unclear to him.

“Vampires need blood, more so if they are constantly fighting,” I explain.

“The Cadiz lost half of their mortal followers on the first night. Some are getting dangerously close to… exhausting their patience,” Sergei continues.

The mortals may not understand the full implication of what such a loss incurs. Without an adequate supply of blood, the vampires may end up destroying the minds of their mortals and some could even turn rogue.

“Can they not escape?”

“The vampires may break through, if they sacrifice all of their followers.”

We all understand that it will not happen.

“Enough questions; we need to move now. I propose that you knights proceed as planned but from another angle. The Cadiz attack first, you flank them and once both diversions are in progress, Augustus and I will charge. Melusine and Frost will cover our approach, as planned. Is this agreeable?” I ask.

“It is,” Sergei replies, “Aisha will signal the Cadiz to attack with a spell. We will wait a minute before engaging ourselves. You will probably face the least resistance if you wait a bit.”

Both Augustus and I signal our agreement.

“We could be forced to disengage. Can you signal us when you attack so that we know we have held their attention for long enough?”

“Oh, trust me,” I reply, “you won’t miss it.”

For the first time since I met him, Sergei smiles. The little I can see of his mouth lifts upward and his entire demeanor changes.

“It will be a pleasure to see you at work, Ariane of the Nirari. After you are done here, you should consider joining us for a spell. We could use a Vanguard of your caliber,” he says.

Vanguards are the knights’ combat experts. Did he just try to recruit me? I turn to Jimena who nods emphatically.

Well, I could consider it in the far future. For a while. If my territory is secured. After all, they present some of the best opportunities to collect allies or blood samples.

I consider the knights as they leave. We successfully coordinated in a peaceful and mostly respectful manner despite my apprehensions. Perhaps Anatole was the exception and the rest of them are not so bad that I cannot work with them. Of course, I will never fully trust them either. They did not oppose him as he was skirting the rules, after all.

“Let us depart. We must still find our quarry,” I tell my allies.

Melusine and Frost assent and leave as Augustus and I return to the horde behind us. I can hardly believe it but with the knights on our side, our chances have significantly improved. I hope nothing comes to ruin our plan.

The trip back is anticlimactic. I return at the tip of the formation where Metis is currently munching on yet another ear while Augustus returns to its heart. We move forward at a slow pace to allow the others to sweep for sentinels.

Valleys lead to forests, and to ridges in turn. The night is beautiful, but I have difficulties enjoying it because of the smell and the unreliable allies at my back. The horde is incredibly quiet, for its size, yet even subdued their auras are too powerful for me to ignore them. Their constant presence weighs on my mind step after step. Only the reminder of what is to come relieves my overtaxed patience.

We are going to attack. That means an all-out charge.

Finally, I am done running, scheming and planning.

I can let go.