| |
Shouting Match
For such a huge bearman, General Ursid moves like lightning, shoving his young charge behind him into the midst of the bears, roaring, “You speak without honour.”
“You dare talk about honour in my house.” Alpha’s fists clench and unclench as he fights to maintain control, canine teeth elongating and retracting in line with his grip. “You’ve broken every form of nobility. Refusing to speak of our missing wolves. Using these negotiations to take more of my people. What have you done with them? Are they murdered at your hands, torn by claw and teeth?”
He’s remarkably poetic, given the rage pouring through him. Curt’s growling under his breath rises to a near howl, which the wolves repeat in a nerve-shredding chorus as they hover on the brink of change.
Alpha points at Adamo. “He’s as foul as his disgusting father.”
The bears join in one mighty savage roar that shakes the walls and vibrates my eardrums.
“I can speak for myself!” hollers Adamo, trying to push past Ursid, but the giant grizzly in waiting is an unmovable object and the bears are pressing close.
“You burned our villages, tore apart our wolves and slaughtered our cubs.” Alpha’s voice drops from a bellow to a low growl as his jaw lengthens to carry those teeth.
“That was my grandfather, not me,” Adamo replies, but he’s no longer visible in the bear crush.
Ursid growls ferociously, his scar deepening on the cusp of change. “Wolf packs hunted down our queen and left her to bleed to death, crawling through the snow, her cubs howling beside her. They surrounded a prince cub, tossing him from one to another, and you speak of honour.”
“Getting lost in the past is hardly helping,” Anguis says, his voice penetrating the noise without it being raised.
“Anguis,” Serpen says, giving his ambassador a strange look that succeeds in closing his mouth. “Alpha, why was your hunting party out? They should have been here, in respect to the negotiations and the presence of your king.”
Curt inches backwards, pushing me behind him in the direction of the wall of wolves, guarding the children. I can see the wheels turning in his brother’s head as he tries to dredge up an excuse.
Ursid gets there before him. “Did you send the pack to track the bear camp? To kill our cubs?”
“None of my wolves would touch your cubs,” Alpha hollers, all pretence passed. “They were looking for our missing wolves. I know you have them, Ursid.”
“You’re lying,” Ursid snarls. “You pretend, so we’ll negotiate, when you’re killing our bears all along. Now you plan to wipe out our camp.”
Alpha glances at his brother and Curt shoves me so hard, I land on the floor beside the cowering children. When Alpha half turns to Wings and whispers, Dulcis’ eyes go wide and she slides past her father, screaming, “Adamo, run.”
The world fills with the sound of tearing. Bears and wolves change in the blink of an eye, shredded clothing dropping away from hulking fur and savage claws. The children change to wolf cubs, instinct screaming for protection. The door is flung open and two howling she-wolves usher the cubs out into the snow, fleeing to safety.
Peering through a sea of legs, I spot wolf Curt staring back at me, teeth snapping as he flings his head to one side. He’s telling me to run, but I’m not abandoning him or Dulcis to this chaos, even if they’re far more able to defend themselves than I am.
Alpha snarls directly into his daughter’s face and nips at her shoulder. She comes out fighting, snarling right back at him, but he’s bigger and stronger and, let’s face it, her father, so she backs up a few paces.
Crawling along the floor behind the wolves, I spot Serpen and Anguis moving away from the middle of the hall. None of their snake or eagle guards have changed, apparently convinced teeth and claw won’t be flying near the royals. That’s a huge assumption in this free for all. Only Wings has transformed and a feather floats above my head, riding on snarling breath.
The last wolf cub escapes and Alpha lifts his head, releasing a war howl. The wall of wolves leaps forward and furniture goes crashing, smashing into kindling. The bears roar in return and the racket is deafening. I curl up into a foetal ball under a table in a stunning display of bravery as chaos erupts.
A mound of bears thunders forward en masse, Ursid smashing into the swarming wall of wolves, heaving them back in a mad scramble of paws on wood. I try to spot Curt, but he’s lost in the crush. The whirlpool of teeth and claws revolves towards the open door, splashing the walls with blood spatter before the mass of snarling fur tumbles out onto the snow.
With the hall now emptied of flying claws, I’m no longer in danger of losing a limb, so I crawl out from under the table and race out of the front door, catching the bears pulling back to surround their prince. Massive legs pound into a headlong run for the trees. Bringing up the rear, Ursid turns to deliver a terrifying snarling roar, spit dangling from his teeth. The wolves give chase, their numbers rising as others join them. Curt races beside his brother, keeping pace despite the limp.
Dulcis’ sleek wolf flashes across the snow, flinging herself directly into Alpha’s path, but he hooks his nose beneath her body and flips her onto her side. Wings lands both feet on her head and neck, shoving her nose into the snow.
The snake and eagle guards, still not changed, insert themselves between the wolves and the fleeing bears.
“Alphaaaaa,” echoes an eerie, sibilant hiss, “tell your wolvessss to cease or risk my wrath.”
Serpen lurks on the door step, his expression thunderous, gaze beaming through the darkness. I didn’t think a voice that frightening could emanate from such a slight, graceful man. It’s disturbingly supernatural and makes me shudder. I’m not the only one because Alpha snarls and scowls, but delivers a plaintive howl. The pursuing wolves slide to a halt, vocal in their disapproval.
“Silence,” Serpen orders as he marches towards Alpha, Anguis at his side. The wolves quieten, padding around each other, staring into the woods as the bears disappear into shadow, leaving only the crack of breaking branches echoing through the darkness.
Curt turns and limps towards me, but I’m already past him, barrelling into the great bird, yelling, “Get off her!”
Wings barely sways from the impact, which leaves me on my back in the snow. He squawks in disgust as I haul myself up and punch his wing, nearly breaking my fingers. Alpha rumbles and Wings steps off Dulcis’ head. She leaps up, spluttering snow and dirt from her nostrils, snapping at his feathers. Wings slaps a giant wing across the back of her head with a thump and she snarls at him, before padding to my side.
I’m close enough to spot nips on Curt’s nose, back and tail. I hope he gave as good as he got in that melee. I stroke the top of his head and he whines, quietly.
“Alpha,” hisses the king, standing unnervingly still, staring, until Alpha drops his haunches into the snow and sits, head bowed.
All the wolves instantly lay down and freeze, like a pack of sphinxes. I hear Curt’s hip joint crunch and rest my palm on his head. He delicately catches the hem of my dress in his teeth and gently tugs. I get the point, dropping to my knees and half bowing my head. Instant freeze to the kneecaps.
“I will discuss this matter with Prince Adamo and discover the truth,” Serpen announces, “but I will have order in this land. Guards, we’re flying.”
I watch the eagle guards strip down and fold their clothes, which are then collected by the snake guards and placed into a container. Brown feathers soon appear and the massed wingspans block the main wolfpack from sight. Multiple beady eyes staring down savage beaks are unnerving, but I still wonder exactly how the snake king holds such extraordinary sway over the wolves and bears. Surely the two packs together could resist rule? But what do I know? Curt told me it had been tried before and was an abject failure. Not to mention, there’s zero chance of this lot becoming allies; they would tear each other’s heads off first.
My neck hurts so I cease peering at blood sprinkled snow and look up. The snake guards loop knotted ropes over eagles’ heads and bodies, wooden planks hanging from the bottom, reminding me of the swing in my back garden when I was a girl.
Anguis catches my eye and slightly shakes his head, glancing towards his king. I lower my gaze once more. A furry head vibrates beneath my fingers and I flex slightly in answer.
“Wait for Ambassador Anguis to contact you,” Serpen announces and his feet disappear from view.
When I look up, he’s already seated in a high backed, mounted wooden throne, come cubicle, complete with metal safety gate, guide ropes attached to the torso of the largest, most vicious looking eagle I’ve ever seen. A chunk missing from his beak screams prizefighter. A second cubicle, still ornately carved with coiled snakes, but slightly less ostentatious, awaits the ambassador.
Anguis swerves, detouring past my right ear, whispering, “Don’t get involved. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
I look up in shock, wondering whether I’ve just been threatened, but the look on his face reads warning and concern, not aggression. Curt growls, believing it’s the latter.
Anguis settles in his flying seat and a snake guard locks the safety in place, before shimmying into his own, far more dangerous and draughty rope swing. An ear-piercing squawk from Broken Beak signals green light on the runway and the eagles take flight, swooping into the air swinging the snake guards and the royal cargo beneath. It’s a feather filled, impressive sight, but a macabre part of me wishes old Broken Beak would drop His Majesty into the nearest tree.
Curt growls and gags into the snow.
“Disgusting,” I comment, rising by leaning on his head, “but I can’t say I disagree.”
