Thru the Eyes of Ruby

This is an exerpt from Part 2. It introduces a new character who is currently bound by an honor debt to an island fortress that's about to come under attack by enemy forces. He meets an advanced scouting party of Vor'deth - the Dogs of War so to speak. This is the start of the main conflict of part 2. Check it out...

The sun was already burning, and it hadn't even reached its peak yet. This was the last day of their little excursion to the main land, and Wolfe Nightshade was glad for it. If the rumors were true they would all be stuck on that wretch of an island for weeks, maybe even months.

But Wolfe didn't believe in rumors. What he did believe in, was evidence. And the facts were that more and more of the sorcerers who survived the destruction of their famed school were disappearing. People were being murdered in the streets of large townships, bodies were left strung out in forests, women were being rapped and half eaten. It was madness.

Wolfe liked to not worry about the world too much. Whatever madness the world had gotten itself into, whatever darkness the people had wrought upon themselves had no hold over him. He was his own man, outside of the rest. They were sheep. He was... maybe a sheep. But one with steel wool and claws at the very least.

No, Wolfe Nightshade cared very little for the comings and goings of man. So what was he doing out there now? Why wasn't he enjoying the open road? He was stuck, all because of some stupid debt he owed Tom Allovac for saving his life. Whatever. He could have handled it. But now here he was, babysitting - babysitting! - two guards and a handful of women who were foraging for food on the whims of a man who had taken it upon himself to become a target. Not that Wolfe was worried about a fight, he just didn't like someone painting a big red bulls eye on his back and telling the whole world it was open season.

Wolfe sighed. He understood Tom's frustration. The man was proud and not prone to think things through. He was hot headed and determined to prove his point, and that rested fine with Wolfe. But they were alone in this. The Federation wasn't even sure there was a problem yet, and wasted their time bickering amongst themselves. Meanwhile he was stuck, babysitting. Wolfe's loathing of his current situation was as heavy as the pile of fish they pulled out of the sea for breakfast. If not more.

Wolfe was on his way to help a woman reach a fruit dangling just out of reach when he first felt it. The feeling that something was wrong. That something bad was about to happen. He could smell the foulness on the air, it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle up.

Turning and facing deeper in the forest Wolfe made up his mind.

"Drop everything. Return to the boats, shove off for the fortress."

No one said anything. The last three days had been uneventful, everyone expected this trip to be as peaceful as the others. But apparently, Tom Allovac's plan had worked, and now they were all fucked.

The waves slapped gently against the sand of the beaches, a calming sound slowly marking the passage of time. Wolfe turned to the dumbstruck villagers and snarled.

"Get out of here! NOW!"

Baskets of fruit spilled as the women scurried through the clearing and to the beach. The guards stayed with Wolfe, their attention turned to the trail leading deeper into the forest, alert to the sense of dread that was building in the air.

Slowly they pulled their swords, still unsure but no willing to risk it. The foulness was getting closer, Wolfe could smell it. He reached down and unclasped his short swords that ran along his thighs. He pulled his brimmed hat down tighter and prepared himself for what was coming.

What appeared shattered all of his expectations.

Three men bounded out of the trees and flew towards Wolfe and the others. They moved faster than anything Wolfe had ever seen before, using their arms and legs like dogs, snarling their teeth as they burst into the clearing.

"Captain!" one of the guards screamed as he went down, his neck oozing blood where a chunk of meat had been ripped out.

"You have got to be kidding me," Wolfe said as he slid his swords out. One of the attackers leapt at Wolfe full speed, mouth agape, long sharpened nails - claws - reaching for Wolfe's face and neck. Wolfe ducked at the last minute, the tails of his duster fanning out around him, the blades of his swords flashing in the smothering sun.

The attacker sailed right over Wolfe, and was rewarded with thin red lines down its abdomen, its guts spilling in the sand. The man, if you could even call it that, landed hard and did not get up.

The guard captain was facing two of the assailants, slowly circling each other, waiting for the right time to strike. The captain had his sword held low, unsure how to guard against men who walked as easily on all fours as any dog.

One of the creatures lunched at the Captain but retreated quickly, pulling his attention away and allowing the second to strike. The retreating creature came at Wolfe full speed. With a snarl it stood on its legs, slashing and lunging at Wolfe with its claws.

Wolfe was surprised and the sheer ferocity of the attack that came at him. He parried quickly and effectively, but lost ground the whole time. The things fingernails - claws - were like iron, and stood up to his blades. His sword skidded off its forearms as if metal plates had been sewn into it's armor.

A flying forearm caught Wolfe across the face, sending stars shooting through his vision and pain through his face. Wolfe felt himself sliding through the sand.

There was definitely metal in the armor.

Wolfe shook his head clear just in time to see five sharp claws diving for his gut. He caught them on his sword and kicked his attacker backwards. Jumping to his feet, Wolfe renewed his attack. He fought hard for every foot of ground, but eventually succeeded in pushing his opponent back out into the clearing. Wolfe ducked under a wild slash and brought his fist up as hard as he could. The wild uppercut landed squarely on his opponent's jaw, slinging the beast back against a boulder, stunned.

A shrill cry captured his attention. Risking a look he saw blood pouring out of a deep gash on the side of the captain's leg, his sword raised defensively, barely holding out. He didn't have much time.

Wolfe thought about leaving him to his fate. Survival of the fittest. The guard captain allowed himself to be beaten. Wolfe could put a sword in his dazed opponent and make it to the boats easily.

Before he even knew what he was doing, his swords were slowly falling to the ground, free of his grip. Wolfe sighed. He couldn't turn his back on his opponent to save the captain. He couldn't let the captain die either. They were going to need all the bodies they could muster for what was coming. And he owed Tom Allovac, damn him.

Wolfe Nightshade's hands disappeared behind his back, hidden by his duster. When they emerged they were holding a pair of ancient pistols. Black powder packed in and loaded with a lead ball. Two targets, one left, one right. Two shots. He couldn't screw this up.

The swords bounced in the sand. Wolfe spread his arms out wide, his vision turning grey. The monster on his left was lunging at the guard captain, breaking through his defenses, eyes maddened by the closeness of the kill. The monster on his right was pushing off the rock Wolfe had knocked him against, angered and powerful.

Wolfe saw them both. He saw both barrels, focused on both at the same time. Saliva dripped off of fangs flashing in the sun. Time's up. Wolfe pulled the ancient triggers.

The dual booms that rippled through the forest carried a signal of finality to anyone who heard it. Finality because the fight was over. Finality because Wolfe's pistols lay useless in the sand, the last of his black powder and shots spent.

Wolfe Nightshade slung the fallen guard over his shoulder and moved as fast as he could back towards the boats, his retrieved short swords once again strapped to his sides. The guard captain hobbled along as best as he could, winded but wide eyed with a new found fear of the quiet man he had shared the last several days with.

Dead and bleeding in the sand, the corpses of two of the esteemed Vor'deth joined the first. Both with freshly made holes between their eyes.