!Warning: M (16+)-rated themes: Depiction of violence and blood.
- XVI -
Amelia entered the fray. When she gestured for her archers to shoot, dozens of silver arrows rained down onto the wolves. They wailed in pain, but soon began to rip the arrowheads out of their skin.
Marcus headed for one of them, drawing his sword. With a quick movement he slashed off one of its arms, causing the beast to make an agonised roaring sound but it seemed to ignore the pain and started to chase after the Hungarian's horse. The sharp claws of its remaining arm tore the hind legs of the animal and it dragged horse and rider to the ground. Before Marcus could react, the werewolf was upon him. He seemed to have lost his sword.
Amelia smirked. At lightening speed she sprang off the saddle and landed between Marcus and the beast. With full force she rammed her silver-gauntleted hand into its snout. In a reflex action it bit down on it and she drew her hand out. The poisonous metal burned its way into the wolf's gums and it again grunted in pain. Now Amelia quickly produced her sword and decapitated the monster with a precise strike. Its ugly head hit the muddy ground with a loud thud. She turned around, looking down at Marcus, who stared at her with wide eyes.
"Respect...", he mumbled under his breath and picked himself up.
In the meantime the other knights unsuccessfully fought the second wolf. They had no experience with opponents twice their size.
"Let me pass, you incompetent simpletons!" Viktor blustered. He had dismounted and was cleaving his way through the crowd.
"Watch and learn!", he shouted, then drew two elaborately decorated two-edged swords, positioned them crosswise in front of his chest and brought them together abruptly, separating the werewolf's upper half from the lower one.
A fountain of dark red liquid sprang from its torso before it collapsed. The beast's arms twitched and writhed in the blood-soaked snow, while Viktor contently looked down on his work, smiling wickedly. Maybe it took only a few moments but to Amelia it seemed like hours had gone by, before he finally decided to put an end to the grotesque sight and split the wolf's skull in half.
"Burn those carcasses!", he ordered and walked away towards the remaining tents.
Amelia watched him leave. The way he had fought, no, slaughtered the monster had really impressed her. He was an unearthly talented swordsman, better than any knight she had met before. And he knew that. For him it seemed to be only natural that even a huge werewolf was in a hopeless, inferior position. Maybe this was the reason why he enjoyed playing with his prey.
She looked up into the sky again and noticed a faint rose coloured shine at the eastern horizon. They would need to repair the tents quickly before dawn. Amelia called for Thomas and instructed him to gather his men and go to work. She found it easier to give orders now than she had at first.
The knight also left for the camp and now Marcus, who had been searching for his sword, was the only one still standing beside her. He looked at her with mixed feelings. Never had he known a woman wearing armour and he still thought it to be odd and unnatural, but she had just saved him, using skill and strategy against that powerful beast. She had seemed completely unafraid, quick thinking and had acted straightforwardly. Should he thank her? Maybe now would be the right moment to apologise and win her over to his side. Again he struggled with his own pride. Just when he opened his mouth to address her, a dreadfully loud howl broke the silence, followed by rustling and thundering from the underwood. The two wolves had not been the only ones. And their death had made their brothers angry.