David Dalglish - Night of Wolves

“Jessie,” she said.

“Please, Jessie, escort an old man inside.”

She took his offered hand.

“You’re hardly old,” she insisted. “The hair on your head is not all gray.”

“But there is gray in it,” Daniel said, opening the door. “And all it takes is a single faded hair to make a man realize how far his youth has fled.”

Jessie didn’t know what to say, so she quietly led him to the dining room, where both paladins sat, a heavyset man with them.

“Jeremy Hangfield?” he asked as Jessie released his arm.

“I am,” said Jeremy. “I trust my daughter was polite in greeting you?”

“Polite as she might be standing motionless in the autumn air.” He gestured to a chair. “May I sit?”

Jeremy nodded, ignoring the rebuff. Daniel pulled the chair closer and made a show of sitting down. All the while, he scanned the three men, exaggerating his movements and grunts to buy time. Jeremy had noble blood in him, that was obvious, but he’d been tempered by the farmland and distance from the capital. Having his daughter wait in greeting was just a foolish attempt at replicating distant customs, at pretending to a wealth he didn’t really have. He may be the wealthiest man in the village, but compared to the true lords of Mordan, he was insignificant. His house was huge, though, he’d give him that.

The two paladins intrigued him. The one for Ashhur sat to his left, his red hair carefully cut, his beard trimmed. He wore no armor, but he kept his weapon at his side, and a pendant of the golden mountain hung from his neck. The man looked worn, about as bad as Daniel felt. On the right was Karak’s paladin, a handsome man whom he’d met the night before. His blue eyes seemed subdued in the daylight. When they’d first met in starlight, Darius’s gaze had sparkled as if infused with sapphires. He also lacked armor, but his greatsword leaned against his chair, his right hand gripping the handle. Compared to the other paladin, he looked a picture of health.

“I suppose introductions are in order,” said Daniel.

“I believe you’ve already met Darius,” Jeremy said after dismissing his daughter. He gestured to the other paladin. “And this is Jerico, our guest from the Citadel. Both have done well in protecting our village, but given the threat looming before us, we felt it best to contact you.”

“Well, I’m Daniel Coldmine,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair. “I must admit, I first thought your letter a hoax. Wolf-men gathering near the Wedge’s border, and even worse, brave enough to cross the river? Preposterous. And to have paladins of both gods unable to stop them, and even more shocking, working together to do so? Now I’ve heard some tales in my days, gentlemen, but that one nearly got your letter burned.”

“We live in strange times,” Darius said, chuckling. Jerico remained quiet, and he looked as if his mind were far away.

“Even so, Sir Godley and I decided if it were true, things had to be bad indeed. Well, they are, and far beyond it. The wolf-men are scouting the river. They were waiting for us. Waiting! That takes a patience and cunning they normally lack. Whoever leads them is not to be dismissed lightly. They assaulted our boats from the water, killed half my men before we could reach safety. The question we all need to answer is, what does it all mean?”

“Wolf-men have always been territorial,” Jeremy said. He drank from his glass, then realized his manners. “A drink, my friend?”

“Strongest you have, Jeremy. I had a long night.”

The room fell quiet while Jeremy retrieved him a mug. Daniel scratched at his chin and watched the paladins. Jerico never once met his gaze. Darius seemed bothered by this, and Daniel caught several worried glances directed Jerico’s way. So bizarre. The dark paladin was actually upset. Them working together wasn’t some diplomatic necessity. They appeared to be friends.

“Strongest ale in the cellar,” Jeremy said, sitting back down. Daniel accepted the wooden mug and took a heavy swig. It burned going down, and he loved it. For the first time all morning, he felt himself coming around.

“Thank Ashhur for that. Karak too,” he said, winking.

Neither paladin rose to the bait. Damn, they were calm ones, weren’t they?

“This isn’t territorial,” Jerico said suddenly. He looked around, and he had the air of one pulling out of a dream. “They were scouting us with those first attacks. When we crossed the Gihon, they baited us, then attacked from both sides. And now they watch the river, doing all they can to prevent reinforcements. Jeremy, when is the next shipment coming from Bluewater?”

“Their boat should arrive early tomorrow, if not tonight,” said Jeremy. “Why?”

“It won’t arrive,” Darius said, realizing what Jerico was thinking. “The wolf-men will assault it like they did the troops from Blood Tower. They’re treating us like an animal separated from its herd.”

Daniel frowned. It felt like a bit of a leap, but still…

“Not entirely sure I buy this,” he said.

“They’ve found us weak,” Darius said, shaking his head. “And now they’ll do whatever they can to starve us, deny us safety in numbers. When will the pack descend upon Durham? And in how great a number?”

“Lot of assumptions here,” Jeremy insisted. “We’ve killed plenty of them. That alone should prove we are no easy prey.”

Daniel thought of the viciousness the wolf-men had displayed in attacking their boat. They hadn’t cared about their losses or the disadvantages they faced because of the water. No, they’d fought and died to ensure they didn’t reach the village. Still, they’d failed, which meant they weren’t invincible. Daniel felt pride swell in his chest knowing they’d given as good as they’d gotten, if not better, and that was without armor or solid footing.

“Not easy,” Daniel said. He glanced at the three. “But I don’t think they expect it to be easy. If they attack here, it will be soon. The longer they wait, the greater the chance Sir Godley realizes the danger and sends more reinforcements from the other towers.”

“What is it you suggest?” Jeremy asked.

The paladins shared a look, then deferred to Daniel.

“We either prepare a defense, or flee until we return with greater numbers.”

“Fight or flight,” said Darius. “It always seems to come down to those two, doesn’t it?”

“We cannot leave our homes!” insisted Jeremy. “For nearly everyone here, this is all we have. Our few wagons will not carry a tenth of our possessions. Our livestock will lack for food wherever we go, for how will we bring our grain and hay? Autumn will soon end; there is nothing for us to forage.”

“It is better to live with less than die with more,” Jerico said.

“Such a fine platitude,” Darius said. “But there’s a problem. We cannot outrun the wolf-men, not loaded and bearing women and children. Even if we left several days before them, they would descend upon us before we ever reached safety.”

“You think their attack will be so soon?” Daniel asked.

“Why else would they attack your ship? Whoever leads them is not stupid. They know time is running out. Even more, I know that defending a caravan of hungry, tired people is far harder than a prepared fortification.”

“Prepared fortification?” Jeremy laughed. “We’re a farming village. We fish and plant crops. Our homes are plain and made of wood. What fortifications?”

Darius grinned at him, and there was something dangerous in the smile.

“Such little faith,” he said.

“Enough,” said Jerico. “We don’t know what numbers we face. We don’t know who leads them and we don’t know how much time we have. Everything is guesswork, and in such a state, we are talking out of our behinds. Hot tempers help no one.”