Warning: Er...none here. At all.
Dedication: To Chrissy, for putting up with my insectan babbling.
Author's Note: In some ways, this is rather depressing. But statistically realistic. This story is actually coming very easily to me...
The Longest Journey
Medieval Britain
//Oh good god...//
Severus had found himself in the midst of a ferocious battle. He was seated on a horse, aching and sore. The scent of sweat and blood assaulted his nostrils. He wondered how he wasn't gagging. He was surrounded by armor clad men, screaming and swinging swords. It was obvious he was some sort of warrior, and a skilled one at that. His own sword was covered in blood, and he continued to cut down men that came before him.
//Where in god's good name am I?// He couldn't help but wonder.
"Blamor!" He heard himself yelling. "Fall back!"
He wheeled his horse around, noticing the battle seemed to be calming. Apparently they were victorious.
"Fall back!" He called out again, and the men listened. //A general...not bad.//
"Sir...we've prisoners." A large dark haired man rode up, and removed his helmet. "A few captives, soldiers. Nothing important. What would you have me do with them?"
"I'll see to them."
"Sagramor, they're just foot soldiers. There's nothing to see to." The dark haired man tucked his helmet under his arm.
"I'll be the judge of that Balmor." Severus/Sagramor heeled his horse, riding alongside of Balmor. "The battle went well, though."
"I had little doubt." Balmor laughed. "Turquine's forces were pathetic, really."
"Don't be overconfident." Severus/Sagramor snapped. "We could have just as well lost."
"But we didn't. You need to learn to celebrate your victories."
"When every enemy of our king and kingdom have been vanquished, then I will celebrate." //A wise man.// Severus agreed. A battle won did not mean a war.
"But one more means we're closer to victory!" Balmor shook his head, grinning. "The men wish you would drink with them..."
"I do not drink. Where are the prisoners?"
"Prisoners?" Balmor was playing stupid, it seemed. "There's really no reason you need to..."
"Balmor!" Sagramor/Severus turned on him, voice angry. "I wish to see the prisoners. I will not tolerate your insubordinance."
"You're tired, and you should rest..."
"And I will!" Sagramor would not be led astray, it seemed. //I wonder why Balmor doesn't want me to see the prisoners. There's obviously a reason, otherwise he wouldn't be making a deal of it.//
"Here, sir." Balmor said, sounding defeated. Sagramor/Severus nudged his orse over, and looked down at the rag-tag group of prisoners that were sitting, tied. There were perhaps five men, though the words was being used generously. Most of them were quite young, or at least appeared it. Hardly more then eighteen, if Severus was any judge. One stood out to Severus, not because of any amazing beauty, but because of his eyes...
"Just foot soldiers, Balmor?" There was an icy tone to Sagramor's voice. "If I am not mistaken, that man there is Risteard de Loupe . Am I correct?" The question was not directed to Balmor, but to the men on the ground. No one answered. The man whom had caught Severus' attention lowered his eyes. His dark, amber colored eyes.
"Have him brought to my tent." Sagramor pointed to the amber eyed man. "And Balmor...if he is not there in ten minutes, it will be your head." The general-as Severus was assuming he was-rode off to his tent. Was slightly puzzled. Was Risteard the leader of the opposing army? De Loupe . That meant the wolf, didn't it? That would explain his eyes...
Sagramor slipped off of his horse, and removed his helmet and armor. He sat down inside of his tent, which seemed rather opulent to Severus. For a war tent. A cot, a folding table, a chair...
"Here." Balmor had entered, dragging the bound Risteard along with him. He did not look happy about it. Sagramor said nothing, just stared at Balmor until the man left. Then he turned his attention to Risteard.
"They say that you're a sorceror of some sorts. That you use dark magics to give your army strength. I do not believe in sorcery. I believe you are just a lucky soldier. But your luck seems to have run out."
"That's what you think." Risteard was glaring up at Sagramor, his eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. The general must have seen it, as he took a step back.
"You do not frighten me."
"Haven't you heard the stories?" Risteard smiled, a lupine grin that made Severus shiver-despite the fact that he had no body.
"What stories? That you can change your shape, that you can call lightening down upon your enemies, that you feast on the blood of fallen soldiers? Of course. But they are just stories."
"Are they?" Risteard rose, and rolled his shoulders. There was a snap as the ropes that held him snapped apart, and he massaged his chaffed wrists.
"How did you...obviously you had a knife, hidden on your person." Sagramor calmed himself, hand resting on his sword hilt.
"No." Risteard shook his head. "Some of the stories are true, Sagramor. No, I can't call lightening, or fire, or cause the earth to open up and swallow you. But I do feast on the flesh of humans..."
"Cannibal." Sagramor spat.
"No." Risteard shook his head. "I am not human, Sagramor. Haven't you realized that? That's why they call me the wolf."
"Lycanthropes are a myth." Sagramor said, but Severus could feel him shaking. //What in hell is this? I fail to see how this is helping me find my soulmate.//
"No, we aren't." Risteard bared his teeth, his canine teeth.
"Balmor!" Sagramor called out, raising his sword. Risteard just laughed. "He's not coming to help you. Now. You can do one of two things. You can let me go, or you can die."
"Balmor!"
"I don't enjoy killing, but I will do it. And I have no desire to die. I am loyal to my king, and Turquine wishes your kingdom. I will use all my abilities to seize it from him. You are a strong general, and a worthy opponent. But I serve my king."
"And I mine." Sagramor said. "And I will not relinquish his lands. And certainly not to Turquine."
"Understood." Risteard nodded.
"I can get quite a ransom for you, I'd imagine."
"You could." Risteard nodded again. "But at what worth? You claim you don't believe what I am...are you willing to risk it?"
"Risk what?" Sagramor folded his arms. He was far too casual, considering the situation. Of course, Severus had encountered werewolves before. Somewhat. This bloodthirsty creature before him was the hardly he lap dog Lupin that he was used to.
"Me." Risteard grinned, and began to change. Severus did not want to watch. The blond man shifted, twisting into a gross caricature of a man. Soon, where he had stood, a large golden wolf sat, eyes fixed on Sagramor.
//How...they can change at will?// Severus had not known that. He would have to ask Lupin about this. He thought the other man would most likely be rather interested to hear about this little adventure.
"Lord in Heaven!" Sagramor made the sign of the cross, holding his sword before him. The wolf licked its lips, and stood, yellow eyes focusing on the general. The creature was beautiful, Severus had to admit. Even Sagramor seemed awed by the animal. In a second, he was gone.
"Balmor!" It took Sagramor a few minutes to recover, but he did.
"Sir?" The dark haired man looked terrified. Severus was confused. //Well...it stands to reason that I can't have been with my soul mate in every single life. I can't make heads or tales of this one, though.// There wasn't the slightest inkling of anything, here. No spark, no insinuation. There was nothing.
"Tell the men to break camp. I wish to be behind solid walls by nightfall." His voice was subdued, and Balmor gave a small smile.
"Sir..."
"Leave it, Balmor." Sagramor shook his head. "We will meet the Wolf again, I am certain. And we shall be better prepared. But if you let him go again...I will kill you myself."
"Yes sir." Balmor smiled mor easily, and made as though would speak more. But he shook his head, and left the tent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~