Willam IX
Willam watched a beam of moonlight slowly creep across the foot of his bed, all the while trying and failing to lure himself into a peaceful slumber. As he was getting older, he found it increasingly difficult to fall asleep. He lay awake with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, just like he had done many nights before and would undoubtedly do again.
Thoughts of the upcoming war loomed on his mind. They preoccupied most of his waking hours, and, it seemed, were also destined to take up his nights. Willam was already bone-weary of all the preparations that were going towards the war effort. He was supposed to be a healer first and foremost, yet instead the circumstances had seen fit to test his merit as a military commander and strategist. Instead of spending his time in the medical ward tending patients with Myra, he was subjugated to constant and strenuous supervision of the Wolf Den's military. The tasks ranged in number and magnitude; restationing soldiers from his rapidly dwindling garrison out to the frontlines, reinforcing the watchtowers and gatehouses of his stronghold, plotting out sections of ground for their newly tamed purlovia to make their burrows, and dozens of other small yet pressing matters.
By all rights, Willam should have left most of the war matters to his officers. But due to the Hotspring Hold's new orders for all Coalition settlements to send reinforcements to the border, Willam found himself at a loss for manpower. Already, Rodrick the Head Ranger had taken a good half of the garrison to ride south and lend support to Heart Hill. Willam constantly regretted sending his most prominent military commander away, since now he had to shoulder most of Rodrick's duties. It's for the best, Willam told himself. We need to pool all our resources into defending that border. If the Protectors slip through our first and final line of defense, then the Northern Coalition may as well surrender outright.
Willam sighed and sat up, having given up on falling asleep anytime soon. He stretched his weary limbs, listening to the creaks and groans of his old joints. Willam glanced outside his windows and saw that the moon was still fairly low in the sky. Deciding some fresh air might help clear his thoughts, he tugged on his clothes and made his way outside the castle.
It was a calm and peaceful night, with gentle stratus clouds slowly sailing overhead. A cool breeze drifted down from the mountains, stirring life into the crisp fall air. Thousands of white and gold stars gleamed across the heavens, a magnificent constellation that seemed to stretch on forever. Willam inhaled the earthy scents of the darkness, trying to enjoy the silence and comfort of the night.
He glanced at the top of the walls, where torches dimly illuminated the crenellations and watchtowers with shifting orange shadows. Of the nine watchtowers interspersed around the Wolf's Den, only four were currently occupied, one in each corner. With little more than thirty soldiers left in the garrison, they lacked the manpower to thoroughly make use of the Wolf Den's defenses. It was all they could do to keep half their watchtowers stationed with night sentries.
As Willam made his way to the southeastern watchtower, he took notice of the Den's sore lack of defenders. Only twelve guards were scheduled to be on duty during the night. Willam guessed they were split evenly between the four active watchtowers, with three guards apiece. Occasionally he would spot a sentry walking along the walls, but for the most part the night was still and quiet.
Willam pushed the watchtower door open, the oak creaking in protest. Once he was inside, he craned his neck upward to the next floor, where torchlight shifted and crackled through the square hatch. He climbed up the wooden ladder, fumbling for rungs in the darkness, until he pulled himself onto the main floor. The guards weren't surprised to see him. One was seated at a table, the other was standing by the door leading to the walls. Willam heard a third guard pacing around at the open-air top floor, probably trying to keep himself warm beside the brazier.
"Lord Willam. I thought I saw you wandering around in the compound," Captain Hallis said. He was peering through an arrow slit at the wilderness outside. "What brings you here?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I may as well make myself useful here. How goes the watch?"
"Quiet and uneventful," the Captain of the Guards said. He stepped away from the narrow window, rolling his neck. Hallis motioned at his underling. "Come, let's show Lord Willam around the walls. It's been a while since we've done a round."
The other guard snapped to attention and stood up, grabbing his spear and a warhorn off the table. He was still fairly young, just barely of age to enlist in the army, Willam judged. Many boys who thought of themselves as men were eagerly clamouring to join the war. Willam hoped that for his sake, the young guard would be spared from the horrors that awaited him.
Captain Hallis led the way outside, carrying a blazing torch. Once they were on the walls, Willam saw that the fire wasn't really needed. The moonlight was already enough to illuminate the surroundings, albeit dimly.
"So what do you make of it, Lord Willam? You think the Coalition is ready for the war?" Hallis asked as they made their way along the perimeter, occasionally leaning on the crenellations to peer at the outside world.
"With enough time, perhaps," Willam sighed as he absentmindedly scanned the wilderness. The snowy tundra was barren of activity, the spruce forests were mostly empty, and the mountains in the distance were dormant for the night. "The Angels report that our enemies haven't moved yet. Their armies are still camped at Cerulean Falls, so we may have more time."
Hallis nodded but just as those words left Willam's mouth, he noticed a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He dismissed it as some nocturnal animal foraging around in the forest. . . until he saw there was more than one. The two guards noticed it as well. They all squinted at the woods, trying to discern what it could be. Four dark shapes stood out. They were distinctly theropods, with large jaws, small forelimbs, and long muscular tails. Their eyes caught the glare of Hallis's fire, shining a bright piercing yellow. When the lead carnivore turned its head to stare at the walls, Willam saw that it only had a single burning gold eye.
No. . . It can't be. . . Willam barely had time to process what was happening. He turned immediately, clutching the young guard's arm. "Sound the alarm!"
The young sentry looked confused but nodded, fumbling at his belt for the warhorn. Willam glanced back at the forest and saw more and more shapes streaming out from the dark undergrowth. The guard pressed the warhorn to his lips and quickly produced two rumbling blasts. He was inhaling in preparation for a third blast when his throat exploded in a shower of blood.
Something tackled Willam to the floor, just as more arrows thrummed past overhead where he had been standing a moment ago. Willam's breath was knocked from his chest. He glanced up just in time to see the young guard being pulled off the rampart into the darkness, still desperately clawing at his neck for air. Pronged metal hooks sprouted out from the back of his neck, stained crimson with the poor man's blood. More of the metal hooks were lodged in nooks and crannies along the castle battlements. Grappling hooks. They're scaling the walls!
Hallis had reached the same conclusion, cursing under his breath. He stood and unsheathed his sword, then started hacking away at the grappling hook wires. Willam was absolutely terrified but he too stood and peeked over the merlons at the darkness below. The guard's corpse was sprawled at the foot of the wall in a growing pool of blood, his warhorn cracked in half. From the forest rushed the invaders. Willam saw the four devilish megalosaurus with their gleaming yellow eyes, but also a swarm of smaller hunters ahead of them. Lithe feathered creatures with long claws, their tails thrashing from side to side as they raced each other to the walls. And at the very back, a row of humanoid figures. Over the sound of snarling and slashing, Willam recognized the distinctive sound of crossbow strings being winched.
He grabbed Hallis by the arm and tugged him away, just as another volley of grappling hooks whirred past, lodging themselves against the stone battlements. Willam's mind was frenzied with a thousand thoughts, yet even he understood the walls would be overrun. "We need to fall back!" He shouted. "We can't hold them off here!"
Hallis nodded grimly. Willam did not spare another second. He sprinted back toward the watchtower as fast as his frail old body could carry him. By now the guards on top of the watchtowers were also relaying the alarm, and the night came alive with the shrieks and moans of warhorns. Disoriented soldiers and commoners were stumbling out of the barracks, half-dressed in an odd assortment of armor and nightclothes.
Hallis overtook Willam easily. He was almost halfway to the watchtower when a lean reptilian shape vaulted onto the wall, a near twelve foot jump. In those brief seconds while the monster was scrabbling for hold on top of the stone merlons, Willam got a good look at the thing. Its scales were a dark ashy grey, like the soot spewed from dead campfires. Tawny brown plumage with gold highlights lined the crest of its head, ran down its spine, and fanned out into a plume of dazzling amber tail feathers. Its eyes were bleeding orange orbs with sharp black slits that flicked back and forth between its startled prey.
With a vicious shriek, the utahraptor pounced on Hallis, pummelling him onto the floor. The harsh impact knocked his sword and torch away. Before the captain had a chance to defend himself, the raptor was already surging forward. Its long claws pinned him down while its head darted forward like a viper, jaws outstretched for a quick kill. Hallis somehow managed to shield his face using his arm, though that too cost him dearly. He screamed in agony as the raptor's razor sharp teeth minced his limb into bloody red ribbons.
Willam was already moving before he could think, he lunged for Hallis's sword, wound it tight in a two-handed grip, then swung at the raptor's exposed neck. The beast leapt back and hissed at him. Willam steeled himself. I won't be a useless bystander this time around. These devils ravaged my home once. I won't let it happen again. Willam hardly knew how to grip the weapon properly, yet he refused to back down. The raptor lunged. Willam slashed and hacked with all his might, wildly waving the sword in frantic arcs. That at least made the raptor hesitate a few feet away. The monster stared at him coldly, waiting for an opening to dart forward.
Just when Willam's arms were starting to grow heavy, Hallis sprang up with a knife in hand, then rammed the blade into the back of the raptor's neck. The monster gave a blood curdling screech as Hallis tackled it with all his strength, shoving it over a merlon and off the wall.
A chorus of outraged shrieks echoed from the darkness below and Willam already knew more raptors would be on them soon. He shook himself out of the daze and waved Hallis onward. Willam never looked back, not even when he heard more claws and talons scraping against stone. He kept his gaze firmly glued to the watchtower. So close yet so far away. A guard was holding the door open, wildly waving them forward. From the look on his face, Willam knew the raptors couldn't have been very far behind. He used the last burst of his strength to dive into the door, and not a moment too soon.
The guard slammed the door shut behind them. An instant later Willam heard the raptors slam against the barrier, followed by muffled shrieks and the terrifying sound of wood cracking as sharp claws bore into the planks. Willam's chest felt like it was on fire, but he forced himself to stand. Hallis was also leaning against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. One quick look at the captain's mauled arm was enough to know that all the nerves and tendons had been destroyed. Hallis would likely never be able to use that limb again. . . yet considering the circumstances he had gotten off light.
Willam returned his borrowed sword to the soldier, then quickly tied a rough tourniquet around the wound using tablecloth. Willam was uncomfortably aware of every second he was wasting. He needed to get down into the courtyard and rally a defense before they were completely overwhelmed. Never in the past few months had he ever thought the enemy would push this far into Northern Coalition territory. Willam could barely comprehend what was happening, yet he told himself not to. All he could do now was fight and try to survive.
The muffled sounds of warhorns, crossbow bolts, and screaming raged on outside. Willam glanced at the door and saw that it was moments away from being destroyed, despite the tower guard's attempts to reinforce it with furniture. The raptors were viciously ripping the wooden planks apart with both tooth and claw.
"We need to abandon this tower and help the guards below!" Willam shouted to be heard over the snarls and growls of the raptors just feet away.
Hallis went down the ladder first, going as fast as a man with only one functional arm could. Willam followed after him, reciting prayers in his head as he endured the agonizingly slow descent. Last came the tower guard. . . though he didn't get far. There was a loud crack as the door gave out, followed by the guard crying out in fear. Willam reached upward, but hesitated when he realized it was too late. All he could do was watch as the poor man kicked and lashed desperately, then went completely limp a few seconds later. The raptors dragged his corpse away from the hatchframe. Willam nearly lost his grip on the rungs when one of the monsters shoved its maw through the opening, just shy of taking off his hand. By some miracle of the island, the monster was too big to fit through the hole. It thrashed and snarled at him, but could do little else. Willam tried his best to ignore the blood and saliva splattering from its mouth as he jumped the last few rungs.
When he turned outside, he was met by a scene of pure chaos. The invaders were attacking from what seemed like every direction, swarming onto the walls by the dozen. Enemy crossbowmen were exchanging fire with the few remaining Wolf's Den archers, while raptors and spearmen stormed the watchtower doors. New defenders were emerging from the barracks, but Willam knew only so many remained. The Wolf's Den was home to roughly a hundred forty humans, and only a fraction of them were full-time soldiers. The reinforcements were poorly equipped, most of them only half-armoured and still not fully awake. They were easy targets for the arbalesters kneeling on the walls, not to mention the raptors and troodons that were leaping down into the compound.
The monsters that had pursued Willam into the tower landed just a few feet away. Three, no four raptors glowered at him hungrily. Hallis moved to attack, but the raptors paid him no heed. They bolted off deeper into the compound. Willam was just as surprised, but he quickly realized why they had ignored him; Clarisse had opened the stable doors and all the tamed beasts of the Wolf's Den were pouring out to defend their home.
Good thinking. Willam turned to Hallis. "Free Argentum from the pit. No matter the cost. Go!"
The Captain blinked, then understood. He immediately rushed off in the opposite direction, taking cover from the crossbowmen by ducking behind buildings. Willam turned his attention back to the carnage unfolding before him, his mind racing. This is only the first wave of attackers. They can't hope to conquer the Wolf's Den using just raptors and troodons alone. No. . . to do that, they'd need something bigger.
Despite his better judgement, Willam started running toward the center of the compound, guided by instinct and adrenaline. The megalosaurus and whatever other warbeasts they brought can't get over the walls. The invaders need to open the gates. . . so that's their next target! Willam could already see enemy soldiers dropping down from the walls in small teams, each heading for a gatehouse. But opening the gates was no easy task. Even as he watched a pair of spearmen close in on the southern gatehouse, the very ground beneath them erupted in a shower of dirt and gravel. A purlovia lunged out from the earth, pinned the nearest soldier with its large forearms, then dragged him kicking and screaming below into its burrow. The other soldier was stunned by the sudden attack, so it was too late by the time he noticed the second purlovia emerging behind him. A hundred pounds of enraged therapsid pounced onto the man's back, knocking him flat on the floor. The purlovia closed its bone-crushing jaws around the back of his neck and the soldier stopped flailing.
Willam was suddenly glad for all the time he spent plotting out where the purlovia warrens would go. Two of the large furred carnivores were burrowed around each gatehouse. With their squat barrel-chested bodies, strong tunneling forearms, and muscular jaws that could snap bones like twigs, the purlovia would buy him enough time to rally his allies. Willam ran past dozens of ravenous creatures, most of which were too preoccupied killing and maiming each other to notice him. The Den's resident clan of fourteen hyaenodons were swarming around isolated raptors and soldiers, snapping, biting, and pulling limbs apart like a horribly gruesome tug of war. Elsewhere, frightened megaloceros does and equus bolted away from their feathered hunters, their eyes rolling in terror as the vicious theropods opened bloody ravines on their flanks. Some of the stronger bucks were able to fight back, using their menacing antlers to stave off assailants, and their powerful kicks to guard their hindquarters. When Willam ran down an alleyway, he had to shield his head from falling roof shingles as sabertooth tigers pursued small and agile troodons across the rooftops.
By some miracle he actually made it to the barracks intact. The soldiers and civilians had mounted a desperate defense, tipping barrels and wagons over into a rough barricade. Some lay dead on the ground, having fallen to crossbow bolts or raptors. The rest were using the hastily erected wall for cover. Of the twenty-three men and women clustered around the barracks, only eight were archers. The rest were spearmen. When Willam ducked behind the barricade to catch his breath, the others instinctively looked to him for guidance. Willam tried to straighten up and calm himself.
Looking around the base, he could see a few other pockets of resistance. Another group of survivors was pinned beside the armory, a smaller group was trying to escape from the medical ward, and a few archers had taken up turret positions inside the central castle. However, all of the watchtowers had fallen by now. Enemy crossbowmen had replaced the Wolf's Den archers, and were now raining down volleys of arrows on the compound. More and more spearmen were descending from the walls and fighting their way toward the gatehouses. There must have been forty or fifty invaders. Only a third the population of the Wolf's Den, yet the enemy was far better equipped and they had taken Willam's people by surprise.
Willam turned to the others around him. A few faces burned with determination, but the vast majority were pale and visibly frightened. I was never built for this. . . leading others was never my place. I'm not a warrior like Otto or Joseph. I was always a coward, too weak and afraid to fight. But none of that matters now. These men and women need inspiration. Without a spark of hope, we've already lost.
Willam stood and cleared his throat. "Rise, all of you. We cannot cower here or we'll get picked off, one by one. If we fight. . . we just might live. None of us expected this war to land on our doorstep but it has. You're all terrified, I know. I am too." He held up a trembling hand to show them, then tightened it into a fist. "But now, more than ever, is the time for action. So fight to defend your home. Fight to protect your loved ones. Fight to survive!"
Most of them still looked afraid, but a few soldiers shouted and drummed their spears against the ground. That'll have to be good enough. "Above all else, we can't let them open the gates. These raptors are already bad enough, but the enemy's strongest, most vicious carnivores are still waiting outside. I need you to split into four teams and defend those gatehouses with your lives. I'll lead the defense of the southern gate." Willam pointed at three soldiers who looked more resolved than most. "You three. Take some spearmen and fight your way to the other gates. Rescue the groups pinned by the armory and medical ward if you can."
The assigned group leaders nodded. Someone handed Willam a steel-tipped spear. He tested the weapon cautiously, shifting its weight in his hands. The wooden haft was eight feet long and the spearhead ended in a razor sharp barbed tip. Over the past few months he had been training his spearmanship whenever he could, as per the Northern Coalition's policy. He could use the weapon, albeit not very well. Whether the weapon would do him any good remained to be seen.
The other team leaders forrayed out toward their targets, shouting encouragement to their followers. Willam took a deep breath, then waved his own team of six spearmen toward the southern gate. They made a beeline straight for the gatehouse, swerving away from clusters of warring raptors and hyaenodons. The enemy soldiers were closing in on the gate. Five of them, Willam could tell from a glance. They had killed one purlovia already, its blood-stained corpse haplessly discarded on the ground. The soldiers were currently trying to slay its partner, but the second purlovia was giving them a much harder time. Three crossbowmen from the walls had impaled it with grappling hooks and they were trying to reel the thing out of the earth, into the waiting spears of the foot soldiers. The purlovia was twisting and thrashing, with its forearms tangled in rope, and arrowheads protruding from its mangled pelt. Willam hoped it would distract the spearmen, but some of the invaders spotted Willam's group and raised the alarm. Two warriors rushed forward to attack.
They were armoured in steel and chainmail, with long spears and rectangular leather-bound shields. Willam hung back and let the more experienced soldiers rush forward first. Spears flashed faster than his eyes could follow, and before Willam knew it, five men were already dead; three of his, two of the enemies. He felt a pang of guilt as he stepped over the bodies of the deceased. I'm no leader, just a coward and a conman. I convinced these poor fools to rush into battle and sacrifice their lives yet I can't bring myself to do the same. Willam seethed with anger, both at himself and the foe. He gripped the spear with new resolve and rushed forward.
The last intruders were prepared by the time Willam and his remaining three allies charged in. This time Willam refused to back away. He thrust his spear at the closest soldier, but the steel tip glanced harmlessly off the man's chestplate. Too late, Willam realized he had made a grave mistake. As he was flailing around for balance, the enemy's spear darted forward like a snake, right for Willam's heart. At the very last instant, one of Willam's own soldiers parried the blow away, then skewered the enemy soldier's neck before he could recover.
Willam nodded thanks to the woman who had saved his life, but quickly found himself pressed for space as another marauder attacked. This time he had learned from his mistake. Instead of thrusting at random, he waited for just the right moment and jammed his spear into the unarmored armpit of his assailant. The man grunted in pain, his teeth clenched. Before he could counterattack, one of Willam's allies circled behind and slit his throat with a knife. Hot warm blood sprayed onto Willam's face. He wiped the stuff away and stared at his bloody hands in shock, not quite realizing that he had just helped take someone's life. A living, breathing human. He had no time to regret the action. It was either him or me, Willam told himself.
Having sensed an opportunity to attack while its hunters were distracted, the purlovia burst out from the ground like a megalodon surfacing from the depths of the ocean. It grabbed the last soldier by the leg and dragged him down into its burrow. The soldier's screams were muffled by all the dirt collapsing into the hole, burying him alive in a blood-stained tomb. Willam's lungs felt like they were on fire, and sweat was seeping into his eyes, blurring his vision. He looked around and saw that the gate was still blocked. All the nearest enemies were dead or dying. But of the six men and women who had originally accompanied him to defend this gate, only two others were still alive.
Just when Willam thought he had earned a few seconds of respite, his brief victory was interrupted by the deafening sound of a gate crashing open. With dread coiling in his gut, he turned to see the eastern gate burst open as four megalosaurus rushed inside and began wreaking havoc on the nearest men, women and beasts. No. . . Willam could scarcely believe his eyes. Not again. . . History is repeating itself before my very eyes. Those very same monsters ravaged my first home and now they're here again.
He was jolted from his thoughts by a loud crash behind him. Willam glanced at the gate and saw it rocking on its hinges as some massive thing behind it repeatedly rammed against it. The wooden beam barring the gate was straining and splintering under the force of the blunt impacts. Willam was caught off guard by more raptors dropping down from the walls, and now there was nothing he could do but back away. Once again the purlovia burst out from the depths to terrorize the enemies who had foolishly tread over its burrow. The ground beneath one of the raptors gave way, erupting in a plume of soil and blood. The reptile somehow managed to escape the purlovia's death grip, but had lost half its entire right leg. It screeched in agony and toppled over, blood spurting from its stump. The earth right beside its head was rent asunder. The purlovia burst out, seized the raptor by the neck, and dragged it headfirst into the ground. The feathered carnivore thrashed around for a few futile seconds then went cold. The other raptors backed away quickly, turning instead toward Willam and his spearmen.
Just at that moment the wooden beam barring the gate snapped. Willam froze in fear. The huge oak doors went flying open as a massive dark green tyrannosaurus rex muscled past and roared. It was an earth-shaking sound that reverberated through Willam's very bones and almost knocked him over. He had to lean on a nearby log cabin to avoid falling altogether. Spittle flew everywhere, showering Willam with the stench of blood and rotten meat. Even the raptors took the cue to back off, leaving their human quarries to the greater beast. The tyrannosaurus was fully armored and saddled, with grey steel plates that protected its head and torso. Piercing yellow eyes flicked around as the monstrosity took in its surroundings; all the blood, bodies, and gaping dirt holes that littered the field. There was a rider on its back who seemed to understand the situation much faster than his mount. He gave the tyrannosaurs reigns a sharp tug and the monster lunged forward, sank its jaws into the earth, and seized the purlovia by the leg. The apex predator chuffed its head back and snapped the struggling synapsid clean in half. Blood and dirt spilled out from the monster's jaws as it honed in on its next closest target. . . Willam himself.
The tyrannosaurus charged forward, while Willam desperately scrambled backward. He didn't get very far. It was like trying to flee in the midst of a devastating earthquake. The ground jostled and shook beneath his very feet. Willam lurched a few steps, then fell flat on his back. He tried to rise but just toppled over again. It was no use. This is the end for me. I tried my best. . . he reflected wearily as he stared at his certain death. But as Willam was cowering on the floor, awaiting the inevitable, he realized the tremors weren't coming from the rex anymore; the monster had halted in its tracks.
Argentum thundered past Willam at full speed, his jaws gaping wide open in a scalding roar of wrath and fury. Like two continents slamming together, the titans shook the entire battlefield as they collided. They careened straight through a wooden cabin, thrashing and snapping as chunks of debris exploded outward in every direction. Willam ducked, shielding his face from the stinging gusts of wind and splintered logs. The wooden shrapnel dug into his arms, though he was lucky to avoid a massive chunk of wall that sailed overhead.
Something nudged Willam's arm. He turned and saw Spectre standing beside him, growling to keep the loose ring of nearby raptors at bay. Willam climbed to his feet, leaning on the albino direwolf for support. Together, they regrouped with the other two spearmen who were crouching a safe distance away from all the carnage. Willam glanced back at where Argentum and the tyrannosaurus rex had gone down. The dust was just beginning to settle over the ruined cabin.
Argentum roared victoriously, resting one clawed foot on top of his dazed foe's head. Before he could finish the green tyrannosaurus off, the giganotosaurus's victory cry was challenged by a deafening roar from the western gate. Willam turned around in time to see another armored tyrannosaurus emerge from the ruins of a battered oak gateway, this one a deep midnight black with striking purple accents. It was larger than its predecessor, glowering across the Wolf's Den with sullen orange eyes. The black tyrannosaurus roared a second time, then charged forward recklessly. Soldiers and lesser beasts alike leapt out of the fuming titan's path, scrambling to distance themselves from the monster.
Argentum glanced at the tyrannosaurus beneath him, then back to his advancing opponent. He made up his mind, abandoning the fallen tyrant to attack the newcomer. The very ground trembled when Argentum barreled forward, corpses and debris bouncing with every footstep. Willam watched with rapt attention as the behemoths clashed, a nauseous mix of dread and anxiety twisting in his gut. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if Argentum were injured or killed. Not like I would have the luxury of finding out. If Argentum loses, then everyone who calls the Wolf's Den home — the men, animals, women, and children — will all be massacred indiscriminately. There's no doubt about it. Without the giganotosaurus's strength, we're lost. All our fates rest on Argentum now. . .
With a powerful heave, Argentum used his last stride to launch himself toward the enemy rex. His jaws snapped together rapaciously, cracking like a whip just shy of his opponent's neck. The tyrannosaurus barely managed to swerve away in time. Both titans reeled unsteadily, fixing their stances as they circled around each other. Argentum lunged again, this time seizing his target by the neck. However, he just as quickly let go, hissing in pain. Blood dripped from his jaws. . . Argentum's own blood, from the looks of it. Willam quickly saw the reason why; the tyrannosaurus had a spike collar around its neck that prevented the giganotosaurus from getting a killing blow. Argentum was suddenly relegated into fighting defensively, turning and maneuvering to protect his own neck, all while his opponent recklessly pushed forward without fear of exposing such weaknesses.
The two apex predators kicked up a storm of dust as they circled around each other, snapping and snarling. Willam was so enraptured by the fight that he barely realized the tyrannosaurus behind him rising from the ground. Upon a soldier's warning cry, he spun around to see the dark green monster climbing out of the ruined cabin, shaking its head in disorientation. Its rider had been killed, impaled on a wooden beam below. The warbeast was now riderless, but no less a threat. The fact that it could still stand upright after being rammed into a building by Argentum was a testament to its resilience. A few of the tyrannosaurus's steel armour plates were slightly askew and it had some bloody gashes from the violent skirmish, yet otherwise it seemed none the worse for wear. When the tyrannosaurus turned its head, Willam saw that it too had a spiked collar around its neck. The monster's bloodshot yellow eyes locked onto the two circling combatants by the western gate, and its nostrils flared at the sight of Argentum. It took a clumsy first step, trampling whatever remained of the cabin, then ambled forward more confidently, albeit with a pronounced limp.
Willam had to act quickly. Argentum was already struggling against a single tyrannosaurus. If he got attacked by a coordinated pair, then the consequences would be disastrous. I have to stop that thing from getting to Argentum . . . but how? It survived a full blown collision with a giganotosaurus, so even if I had the strength, blunt force wouldn't kill it. Between its steel armour plates and spiked collar, that monstrosity is nearly invincible. I know for a fact that spears and arrows won't put a dent in its thick hide, nor can teeth and claws. I doubt we have anything that could take it down. . .
However, a flash of movement in his periphery vision proved Willam wrong. He briefly caught sight of a woolly rhinoceros rampaging between buildings, its enormous horn lowered as it plowed through hordes of enemies. Willam had always seen the creature in cramped stable pens, but now that it was out in the open, he could appreciate the rhinoceros in its full glory. The creature's legs were as thick as tree trunks, and its body rivalled the tremendous bulk of most boulders. Dense matted fur protected it from most crossbow bolts and serrated raptor teeth, but most impressive of all was its prized weapon; the rhino's keratinous horn was as long as a fully grown man, and tapered off to a sharply honed tip. That just might do it, Willam thought with a glimpse of hope. When he squinted closer, he could see a tiny figure clinging to its back.
Zach the stablehand — who was either incredibly brave or foolhardy — was riding the thing without a saddle. He must have seen how desperate the situation was outside and jumped on the rhino to help. Yet without proper equipment or formal training, it was evident that the stablehand was out of his depth. He seemed to bear some small semblance of control over his mount, but for the most part he was just along for the ride. Behind them ran a small group of hyaenodon, who finished off whatever enemies the rhino knocked down. One of the spotted mammals briefly locked eyes with Willam as it tore a man's throat out. Something immediately told Willam that it was the very same hyaenodon bonded to Zach. Bluebell, the stablehand had named her. Willam waved his arms in the air in a desperate bid to draw the hyaenodon's attention. Bluebell paused to stare at him.
Then Zach jolted upright, as if a spark of electricity had coursed through his body. He looked to Willam knowingly, then back to his rhino. Zach gripped the wooly rhinoceros's hair and sharply tugged it to the right, using the makeshift reigns to guide his mount. The beast bleated in defiance but grudgingly followed his orders, charging straight in Willam's direction.
The angle won't work, Willam quickly noticed when he glanced back at the green tyrannosaurus rex. The warbeast had already turned its back and was rapidly slipping away. If the Wolf's Den is to have any chance at surviving this onslaught, we need to take out one of those rexes. Willam knew what needed to be done. Even if it cost his own life. He grabbed one of the many discarded spears from the ground, wound his arm back, and let it fly as he practiced many times before. When Willam's two followers saw what he was doing, they also hurled their spears at the tyrannosaurus.
After a wobbly flight, two spears sailed uselessly past the mark. Fortunately, the third and final spear lodged itself in the tyrannosaurus's hind leg. The monster stiffened up and growled, more so in annoyance than pain. The spear was no more than a splinter to the titan, with its scales of hardened emerald. Willam's heart sank when the tyrant shifted its massive head to find the source of its irritation. After glaring back at him maliciously, the monster snorted and returned its attention to the front. Willam cursed when it kept moving forward.
Spectre whimpered and cast a knowing glance at Willam, then bolted after the tyrannosaurus before he had a chance to react. The direwolf caught up to the limping giant quickly, then sank his teeth into its hind leg. Standing next to the behemoth, the already small wolf was completely dwarfed. Yet Spectre's attack had the intended effect. The tyrannosaurus snarled in anger, whirling around to snap at the nuisance. Spectre nimbly leapt out of the way, kiting the monster back toward Willam. With a sudden burst of speed, the tyrannosaurus darted forward and struck the wolf with its clawed foot. Spectre was knocked into the nearest building with enough force to shatter the window panes. The wolf sank to the ground with a soft whine.
Thanks to the direwolf's sacrifice, the tyrannosaurus was now completely exposed. Before it had a chance to turn away again, Zach charged right in. The wooly rhinoceros barreled forward at full speed, then, at just the right instant, fatally thrust its horn upward into the tyrant's chest. Metal armor buckled like paper, and the subsequent burst of blood proved that the horn had punctured flesh too. Zach had miraculously hit his mark dead on, piercing the monster's heart. The titan shuddered and opened its mouth to roar, but its jaws stiffly dropped and only an awful, shrill deathcry burst out. A moment later, the tyrannosaurus swayed unsteadily and toppled over. Dead.
Zach looked stunned at what he had just done, but his shock quickly gave way to pride. The young stablehand beamed at Willam, laughing at having done the impossible. It was too late by the time Willam saw the shadows behind him.
With a vicious shriek, a raptor pounced and knocked Zach off his mount. Before he had a chance to recover, two more landed next to him and ripped his stomach open with their sickle claws. Zach screamed in agony as the lithe reptiles tore his body apart. All the nearest hyaenodons immediately converged on the raptors with a vengeance, recklessly biting and snarling as they drove the killers away from Zach's corpse. The wooly rhinoceros, in a hazy panic, took off from the scene altogether.
In a state of shock, Willam turned around to survey the damage. Almost all his allies had fallen. Their efforts be damned, all four gates were yawning wide open and the compound was swarming with enemies. Argentum was still locked in a war of teeth and claws against the enemy rex, who was outraged by hearing the death throes of its mate. Raptors and troodons were running rampart, almost unopposed now that most of the defenders were dead. The megaloceros and equus had been hunted down for sport, the sabertooths had been cornered and killed on the roofs, the purlovia had been rooted out from their burrows, and even the once mighty hyaenodon clan had been thinned out significantly. Together with the enemy crossbowmen and spearmen, the theropods were finishing off what scattered resistance remained. Willam watched with horror as a megalosaurus lunged and locked its jaws around Clarisse's arm, lifting her into the air. Another snapped at her legs, and together they ripped the poor woman in half.
The ensuing shower of blood and intestines snapped Willam back to reality. We can't stay out here any longer. The courtyard is lost. The only hope is to retreat. . . Willam caught sight of Hallis nearby, burying his sword up to the hilt in a man's stomach. He was leading a small group of survivors. Willam ran to the captain and shouted to be heard, his voice hoarse and rough. "Call a retreat!"
One of the guards overheard the order and blew a sharp note on his horn. Willam hoped that the others would understand what it meant. He and Hallis led their combined group toward the castle, sticking to the sides of buildings to avoid predators and volleys of crossbow bolts alike. When they ran past Spectre, Willam was surprised to see the direwolf was still rasping for breath. Two strong soldiers were able to lift the injured wolf and carry him back.
After a chaotic flight, Willam's group safely made it inside the castle with minimal losses. A few archers were already there by the entrance, covering their retreat with a dwindling stream of arrows. All the injured were waved deeper into the castle, while the healthy and able-bodied stayed to protect the front door. Luckily many of the others had also realized that the battle was lost, and were desperately making their way toward this final bastion of safety. Survivors from the other gates hobbled in, along with Myra and a group from the medical ward.
Willam stuck his head out the door and whistled frantically, trying to pull as many of the surviving animals and humans into the castle as he could. Remarkably, Argentum heard his summons. The giganotosaurus was still deep in battle with his foe, but at the sound of Willam's whistling, he threw the tyrannosaurus off him and fled. A trio of hyaenodons also scampered into the castle great hall with their tails tucked between their legs, but Bluebell and the rest of the clan were dead. Willam glanced around in despair. Most of his allies were too far away to reach safety. It was unbearable to watch everyone he knew getting hunted down and slaughtered. Men, women, children, and animals alike. They staggered to the ground covered in blood and crossbow bolts, got butchered by spears and swords, or otherwise were mauled to death by raptors, troodons, and megalosaurus.
When Argentum barely squeezed through the doors, Willam knew it was time to cut his losses. He signalled for the guards to push the massive double doors shut, before all the enemy forces converged inside. Willam would never forget the look of fear on the faces of those abandoned outside. Moments before the doors slammed shut, he caught a haunting glimpse of a mother and her young infant screaming at them to wait. A few crossbow bolts sprouted from her back, but she had miraculously shielded her child from the worst of the battle. Although it pained him to do so, Willam could do nothing to help the handful of survivors trapped outside.
After the huge doors were sealed, Willam did his best to ignore the desperate pounding on the door, and the screams that followed. Perhaps the worst part was the brief moment of strained silence. . . before the pounding resumed. This time however, the door creaked and groaned, rocking with every impact as something far larger and stronger than a group of measly humans slammed against it.
Willam was exhausted. He fervently wished he could climb in bed and whisk this nightmare away, but he forced himself to stand and take account of the situation. Seventeen bloody and bruised survivors were in the halls. Some were curled in fetal positions or slumped against the walls with their heads in their hands. A few were desperately hauling desks and tables to reinforce the front door. Others were simply standing in shock. Seventeen shattered souls were all that remained of the hundred and forty who once lived here.
Willam felt tears welling in his eyes. What. . . what did we do to deserve this? How could this even happen? He shook his head in disbelief, clenching and unclenching his fists. We were supposed to be safe behind the border. There were dozens of castles and villages in our way. Were all of them massacred as well? How could the enemy possibly have gotten so deep into our territory without a single cry of warning?
A gentle tug on his sleeve shook him out of his stupor. It was Myra. A deep red gash ran down the side of her cheek and her voice quavered. "Lord Willam, I— I saved your book. And. . . And the patients. Well, the ones that could walk. . ." She looked as if she were on the verge of tears. "What are we to do now?"
"My book?" Willam saw the parcel wrapped tightly in her arms. The Northern Dossier. He had spent the past few months working arduously to create the tome, yet in the last hour he had completely forgotten it existed. He had intended for the book to help new castaways. It was supposed to be a tool for survival, a guide to the north, but also so much more than that. Its wisdom, he had hoped, would be the inspiration needed for humans at their lowest point to pull through whatever endeavours awaited. No matter how hopeless the odds seemed to be. Willam steeled his gaze, glancing at the dossier, then back to Myra. "Right. The book."
This poor frightened girl who had watched all her friends and neighbours die around her. Willam suddenly felt disgusted with himself for wallowing in his self-pity. Be strong. For her. For them. All of them. He glanced around the room at all the men and women, in their various states of shock and disbelief. Spectre with his broken body and the three hyaenodons who were the last of their clan, having barely escaped from the compound with their lives. And Argentum, who was so large he barely fit inside the hall. Hunched over against the wall, heaving from exertion, fear, and anger. Looking lost and confused, but determined to put up another good fight when the front gates inevitably broke to unleash hell a second time.
He turned back to Myra, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me carefully, Myra. This night isn't over, and neither is our battle. If we are to stand any chance of seeing the coming dawn, we'll need help." Willam pointed at the far end of the hall. "Climb the staircase to the highest castle tower and light a distress fire for all the north to see. Otto and his forces will ride from the Hotspring Hold. We just have to hold out until they arrive. . ."
Myra looked terrified. "But what about—"
"—We'll be fine. All of us." Willam squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Run quickly now. And stay alive. You're a smart woman, you'll know what to do."
Willam watched his assistant run away down the great hall. It may be over for everyone on this floor, but hopefully at least Myra will be able to survive the oncoming storm. Willam shook his head. I promised myself I wouldn't give up. Nothing is settled yet. We still have a chance.
He turned and took stock of everyone left. Hallis was leading the defense of the front doors. They had done a good job of barricading it with a small mountain of random furniture. The heap shuddered after every impact from outside, but for now it was in no danger of giving out. Even still Willam ordered every single person to retreat to the far end of the hallway, as far away from the gates as possible. Willam saw that some of the injured had hastily been treated for their wounds, with makeshift tourniquets and crutches. Spectre had regained consciousness and was limping around, though it seemed a large portion of his ribcage and at least one leg were broken. The three hyaenodons were covered in bites and scratches, but in good fighting condition. And Argentum, though he sported a few scrapes, burned with fervour, ready for another fight. Although the massive giganotosaurus had managed to squeeze inside the great hall, he was just barely able to turn around and face the front door. When all the humans passed underneath his legs on their way to the far end of the hall, Willam made sure to stop and check on his pet. Argentum craned his neck down to growl affectionately. Willam stroked Argentum's head, wishing he could transfer whatever strength remained in his own frail useless body to help the giganotosaurus in the coming battle.
Willam, alongside everybody else in the hallway, were abruptly startled by the sound of glass panes shattering. Then with sudden realization, he remembered the rooms adjoining the great hall. . . many of which had glass windows. Not large enough for the tyrannosaurus or megalosaurus to get through, but definitely no challenge for the troodons. Conceivably even some of the smaller raptors. Willam took action immediately. "Close the doors!"
It was too late. Although a few survivors ran to the doors, they were far too slow. One man tried slamming a door shut, but a pair of troodons sprang onto his face before he could. He fell down, wildly batting his hands and trying to pry the creatures off him. After just a few seconds he stiffened up and froze on the spot. Willam knew that troodons had enough poison in their fangs to completely paralyze a full grown man in just a single bite. He screamed for his people to regroup and keep their distance.
Arrows thrummed past him, taking the troodons in the throat or chest or leg. But for every one of the monsters that went down, two more darted in to take its place. The castle hallway rang with the sound of shattering glass and the shrill cries of the troodons. They swarmed down man after man, paralyzing their prey before slashing their throats. A horde of them even went after Argentum, scrambling onto his legs and back to deliver their poisonous bites. The giganotosaurus snarled in outrage and tried to snap the tiny nuisances up, but they were too small and agile for him to catch. All he could do was try to shake them off while they tore into his back.
Willam ran down the hallway, ducking underneath Argentum as the goliath struggled agains the swarm of feathered nightmares. He narrowly avoided being stepped on as Argentum swayed around. Willam made it to the other side, joining Hallis and his soldiers in a tight phalanx to keep the things at bay. Spectre and two hyaenodons were also able to join the humans for their last stand, though the third canine got paralyzed and killed before it could reach safety. Willam was distressed to see a few raptors squeezing through the doors, their sharp claws outstretched. The nimble hunters were quick to join the fray, pouncing on survivors and clambering up Argentum's back to slash and pierce his hide with their sickle claws.
A huge crack reverberated throughout the entire hallway. Willam turned to the front gates in time to see another flood of enemies pouring in. The armored tyrannosaurus led the charge, enraged at having lost its mate and hungry for retribution. All four megalosaurus followed on its heels, snarling and growling with bloodlust.
Upon seeing the challengers, Argentum forgot all about the raptors and troodons carpeting his back. He unleashed an earth-shattering roar that shook the hall, then surged forward to meet the intruders head-on. Willam was preoccupied fending for his life against the smaller threats, trying to spear the troodons that were eyeing him hungrily, their tongues flicking in and out. After managing to impale one of the nightmares, Willam spared Argentum a quick glance and saw that the fight was going disastrously.
Together, the five theropods were driving the giganotosaurus back. Two of the megalosaurus had managed to maneuver behind Argentum and were now clamping down on his tail and hind legs. All the while, Argentum was locked in a ferocious struggle against the tyrannosaurus, trading bites and snarls. He was constantly backing away from the flood of teeth and claws, yet there was no reprieve. His back was still crawling with raptors and troodons who were relentless prying off scales and sinking their serrated teeth into his flesh. Willam could see that the troodon toxins were beginning to wear Argentum down. Every single one of his movements were sluggish. Every step seemed like it took tremendous effort and willpower.
Willam was forced back to his own situation, desperately fighting for his life as the troodons circled around his group. Spectre caught one by surprise, snapping its neck in his jaws. The hyaenodon pair was also doing an admirable job at catching and killing the pests. For a moment it seemed like they might be able to survive the onslaught. . . until the raptors attacked. Hallis was too busy spearing down troodons to notice the raptor stalking down the side of the hallway, hidden behind fallen desks and tables. Willam tried to warn the captain with a shout, but there were so many enemies nearby that Hallis had no idea what he meant. Only a moment later did he find out.
The raptor pounced and slashed Hallis's throat with its claws. It was quickly punctured by dozens of spears as frantic survivors tried and failed to save their comrade. . . but the damage had already been done. Hallis's knees buckled and he fell onto the ground, blood pooling around his body. The sight only urged the other raptors on, and two more pounced at the group. Just seconds before they landed, they were swept clean out of the air by Argentum's tail and dashed against the wall. The humans took advantage of the stunned raptors and quickly killed the threats. However, while finishing the reptiles off, Willam and his group were stunned by what followed.
Every living creature in that castle froze as an unearthly screech echoed through the halls. Willam's spine tingled and all his hairs stood on end. What few windows remained shattered. Entire packs of raptors and troodons ducked down, as if seeking cover from the terrible sound.
Willam had heard Argentum angry before. He had heard the giganotosaurus afraid before. But he had never truly heard Argentum in pain. At least not until now. It was a horribly shrill whine that made him involuntarily cover his ears. Even the troodons around him hissed and shuddered, shaking their heads from the noise. Argentum's screech sounded like something from the deepest pits of hell.
Willam glanced back at his pet and his heart sank. The giganotosaurus was more red than silver. The raptors and troodons had torn out hundreds of fist-sized chunks of flesh from his back, raking it with crimson rivers and ravines. Argentum's maw sported larger wounds and tooth marks from his enemies. But that was not what had set him off.
One of the megalosaurus had ripped his arm off and blood was spurting everywhere. Argentum squealed in pain once again, forcing Willam and everything in the nearby radius to wince in shared anguish. It seemed over for Argentum. The tyrannosarus took that opportunity to headbut him into a wall. Bricks flew everywhere and the troodons on his back leapt away from the impact. Argentum sank down, his eyes closing slowly.
"No!" Willam screamed as Argentum was swarmed by dozens of feathered assailants. He soon disappeared under a sea of blood, scales and feathers.
Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a blood curdling roar shook the castle foundations and the mound ruptured open like a volcano. Raptors, troodons, and megalosaurus flew everywhere. Argentum burst out, seething with rage. His eyes were blazing molten pools of lava, glowing with the intensity of the sun. Argentum swept forward relentlessly. The megalosaurus and raptors latched onto his hind limbs, puncturing through scales and tearing chunks of flesh off, but they did little to slow the wrathful titan down. The tyrannosaurus almost seemed surprised when Argentum went straight for it, although it was standing farther back than all its smaller subordinates and the giganotosaurus was forced to slog through hordes of theropods. Argentum lunged forward and clamped his jaws around the rex's collar, not even flinching when the spikes dug into his flesh. With an aggrieved wrench of his head, Argentum tore the collar off. It clattered to the stone floor, soaked in blood. Willam saw a ragged chunk of Argentum's jaw gone. . . yet still the giganotosaurus did not seem to feel pain.
Argentum lunged before the tyrannosaurus could react, tearing its throat out in a shower of blood. Then, with a slow, almost mechanical turn of his head, the giganotosaurus fixed his gaze on the next closest megalosaurus. The smaller beast stepped back hesitantly, baring its teeth in a threatening manner. Argentum lunged forward, seized its upper snout, and tore it clean off. The jaw landed on the floor with a wet squelch, teeth and all.
The malformed monster stepped back in shock, sporting a hideous underbite. Blood gushed from its missing upper jaw and it reeled away in pain. Argentum left the creature to bleed out, then moved onto his next victim.
Willam shuddered as he watched the titan murdering his enemies slowly and methodically. Argentum's fury was as cold and chilling as the north. The hall rang with snarls, roars, and screeches as beasts fell left and right. But none of those noises were from Argentum. He was ominously silent now, only huffing and grunting in exertion as he butchered hordes of enemies.
Argentum knocked a megalosaurus to the floor and stepped on its neck, shifting all his weight onto the offending foot. There was a hideous crack. By this point, the last two megalosaurus had realized it was futile trying to fight the smoldering behemoth who, beneath his fury, no longer seemed to feel pain. They turned and tried to run, but Argentum caught one by the tail and wrenched it off. Then he charged after the final megalosaurus and slammed into the wall hard enough to dislodge a few support beams. A large portion of the castle collapsed onto the last megalosaurus.
The raptors and troodons on his back were clinging on for dear life now as Argentum repeatedly slammed himself against the castle walls. Bricks were raining down everywhere but they must have felt like raindrops to Argentum. Not so for the smaller carnivores on his back. A few unlucky troodons had their skulls caved in as chunks of stone fell. Others were squished like insects when Argentum dashed himself against the wall maniacally. The castle itself looked like it was in danger of collapsing; already chunks of roof were missing, exposing the damp, bloody hallway to fresh air. More and more stones were raining down as Argentum tenaciously plowed himself into the walls and pillars.
In a fit of fear and desperation, the last remaining predators leapt off Argentum's back and fled for dear life. The leviathan's blazing eyes followed after them as if he wanted to give pursuit, then thought better of it. Willam exhaled in relief as Argentum held his ground. Glancing around the room, he saw that four other survivors were still alive. Along with Spectre and a hyaenodon. In truth, Willam had expected them all to perish. The fact that they had been able to survive the hallways skirmish despite insurmountable odds gave him hope that they could hold out until reinforcements arrived.
Spectre limped forward and whimpered, calling for his friend. Willam realized something was wrong when Argentum turned around slowly, menacingly, his eyes still ablaze. Then, in a sudden burst of speed, the giganotosaurus raised his foot and crushed Spectre alive.
The direwolf did not have time to react, nor Willam and his own allies. The sudden turn took everybody by surprise. Argentum had turned on his lifelong friend in an instant. Both Spectre and Argentum had been outcasts, yet they always found comfort in each other's companionship. Willam scrambled back when Argentum's head slowly craned upward to fixate on Willam and his group. The giganotosaurus raced toward them, yanked a man up, and snapped him in half.
The Mountain Hermit's prophecy came back to taunt Willam again. Should you lose control of the beast, your life will be forfeit. As he watched Argentum lay waste to the few remaining survivors of the massacre, he reflected just how true those words were. The mountain clan warned me of this. I tried to heed their advice yet clearly I failed at that too.
Willam could only watch as Argentum slaughtered everything in his path, despite the screaming and pleading of his food. Willam was not angry or disappointed. Only sad. This is my fault. I was never responsible enough to take care of Argentum. I caged him and treated him like a monster. He was forced to fight a war he had no idea about, and he suffered tonight for all our sakes.
The mountain clansmen told me to cage Argentum and discipline him steadily, to prevent him from ever turning against me. But as Willam watched on in a dream-like trance, somehow he knew that was never possible. It's the other way, really. I was never meant to take care of Argentum at all. I never should have kept him as a pet, blindly thinking I was ever able to provide for such a creature who could destroy whole armies. It was kind of me to rescue his egg from the scorching heat of that desert canyon, yes, but I should have just left it alone in the jungle. Yet instead, something compelled me to foolishly hatch that egg and see it through to the bitter end. What was it. . . Curiosity? Greed? Sheer stupidity?
The blazing giganotosaurus loomed over Willam now, a silent snarl fixed on his face. Willam glanced at Argentum pitifully, knowing his time was soon up. There was nothing but a fiery inferno in Argentum's eyes, with no trace of the happy and overzealous hatchling that Willam had reared. Willam sighed softly. "So. . . you really don't recognize me?"
Nothing but a cold rage. That's to be expected. . . He wasn't even able to remember Spectre, who's been a far more constant and positive presence in his life. Of course he wouldn't remember the ignorant man who failed to raise him with any measure of proper care and attention. Argentum's massive head was slowly lowering down, his nostrils flaring. Willam reached out his hand hesitantly, hoping to at least feel his pet's face one last time. I loved him like he was my own son. . . but I was never able to care for him the right way. At least here and now, at least let me amend for a lifetime of failure with one last gesture of affection.
When his hand brushed against Argentum's scales, it felt like a floodgate was opened. Suddenly Willam's life was flashing before his eyes. No, this isn't my life. . . but Argentum's. He saw brief bursts of colour at first. Then sensations. The sound of an egg cracking. A cold gust of wind and muffled voices that seemed familiar yet unknown, excited and afraid. A feeling of warmth. Then the memories became more coherent. The beauty of a frozen tundra with pine forests and mountains in the distance. Willam vaguely recognized the place. The lookout hill where Argentum was hatched. A brief glimpse of an old man laughing and splashing around with him beside a lake. That must be me, Willam remarked drowsily. Then more flashes, and the feelings that went with them. Happiness and content as he dozed in the warmth of an igloo, beside three men and a direwolf. Fear when he ventured into the woods for the first time, yet still an innate sense of calmness that the old man was beside him. Then anger as his family was attacked by wolves. . . and confusion when later those very same attackers turned into a new family of sorts. Happiness again as he met an albino white direwolf who wasn't afraid of him, who even seemed to enjoy his company. Freedom and peace as he hunted in the tundra, with the brilliant blue sky and the dark green trees.
Then the flashes moved faster. More emotions flooded in. Fear and sadness as the old man ignored him. Anger and confusion as he was caged and forced to sleep in a pit. A brief spark of happiness whenever he saw the old man. . . followed by more confusion and sadness when he was again ignored. Fright and curiosity as he was awoken by the smell of blood in the middle of the night. As he heard shouts and screams and roars in the distance. Nervousness and excitement as Hallis materialized outside his cage and opened the gate. Fury and anger when he saw the old man getting attacked by a green tyrannosaurus rex. Then quick flashes of combat. Teeth and claws sinking into scaled opponents. Blood, and lots of it.
Pain. Overbearing, excruciating pain. So much pain until Willam's mind felt like it was about to snap. The next few flashes were nothing more than blurs of red and an intense drumming heartbeat. The taste of blood. The crunch of bones. And more red, so much red that he could not see any other colours. And then suddenly Willam was staring back at himself in present time. It was as if he was standing in a dark tunnel tinged by red. . . yet even now the crimson fog was slowly receding and he was getting his vision back.
He was in his own body again. Willam stumbled slightly, completely disoriented. He looked up and saw his hand was still on Argentum's snout. The giganotosaurus's eyes were still glowing orange, but even as Willam watched, they slowly began to soften. And suddenly Willam was staring at the real Argentum again. The one who he had hatched and raised. The sweet soul who would try and please him by dragging fresh kills to him. The one who had slept next to him protectively, even as he rapidly outgrew buildings. Argentum's eyes were fading back to normal now. The giganotosaurus growled softly, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret as he recognized Willam for the first time.
Tears flooded Willam's eyes as he wrapped his arms around Argentum's snout in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he choked. "I failed you. You were never meant to be chained and caged, but free. I should have let you live your own life in the natural world instead of forcing you into a war that meant nothing to you. I turned you into a weapon. I treated you like a monster. But you never were. I'm the real monster, not you."
The giganotosaurus growled in what Willam took to be forgiveness. He could tell Argentum was in pain. Both emotional and physical. The poor creature looked sluggish and tired from all the blood loss and the missing arm. Yet he had survived. And if he lived through the night, he would slowly but surely heal from his injuries.
"I'm sorry," Willam repeated again. "I swear to you that I'll care for you better now. I'll call off your role in the war. You don't need to fight anymore. Otto and I, we'll figure something else out. If you wish, I'll set you free in the jungle near where I found you. Nobody will ever force you to fight again. . . You deserved so much better than this. You deserve to be free."
Argentum growled softly. Willam's eyes were blurred with tears. Happiness and regret, fear and guilt, all his emotions overwhelmed him at once and it was all Willam could do not to collapse right then and there. He closed his eyes, weeping uncontrollably as he was wracked with guilt over what he had done. But suddenly, a huge weight shifted away. Willam opened his eyes and saw Argentum lurching backward, his entire body stiffening. The giganotosaurus took one step back. Then another. Then collapsed. The entire building shook, with more bricks and dust raining down from the broken roof. Willam was knocked to the floor from the impact as well. As he was getting up, he suddenly saw it. A megalosaurus. The one-eyed demon who led the pack. The monster had silently stalked up from Argentum's flank and ripped the silver titan's throat. Willam screamed.
He ran forward desperately, trying to reach Argentum. Before he could even get another step, something slammed into his chest. He glanced down deliriously. It was a crossbow bolt. Willam's knees gave out beneath him as three more bolts pierced his arms and torso. Then the floor was rushing to meet his face. Barely out of reach of Argentum, he collapsed.
Nothing but cold, icy darkness remained thereafter.
Author's Note: I'm back! Hope you enjoyed. The next few chapters should come at a more regular weekly pace now that I got this big one done :)
Caleb R. Watson, Very interesting analysis, I roughly approximated the power of each side. I'm glad you took the time to calculate it all out. But certainly, this chapter will put a slight twist in your calculations now that the Northern Coalition's original plans have been thrown askew.
DinoNerd89, Well the anticipated fight came and went :) What did you think of it?
Death korps boi, lol still an appropriate time to use it.
Thunder, Was the cliffhanger worthwhile? I'd love to find out :)
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- DaRumpyBurr