A/N: I love that every time I post a chapter here, I get new people following and favoriting Storm of the Wolf. That's just so neat, that people are still checking out the old story. Ugh, I just love all of you.
Okay, spiel done. Onwards.
A Sound in the Night
"Your John is a talented spirit walker," Bea acknowledged as she and the Wolf observed John moving amongst the injured men with ease and poise.
"He's not my John," the Wolf corrected, "but yes, he is one of the greatest medicine men I have ever seen."
"He healed you?" the warrior woman asked.
The Wolf smiled slightly. "More than he will ever know."
Bea sighed and retreated from the opening, going to sit on her pallet. "Now," she sighed, "tell me what you really know of these Night-seekers."
The Wolf joined her. "Where I am from, they are known as haemovores," she told Bea.
Bea frowned. "I am unfamiliar with that term."
"I'm not surprised. It is far from here. Tell me, have you succeeded in killing any of the creatures?" the Wolf asked.
"No." Bea shook her head. "The most we can hope for is injure them enough that they require time to heal before attacking again."
"Then I have news. They can be slain. But it is difficult," the Wolf warned.
Bea leaned forward eagerly. "Please, tell me."
"It requires a stake of wood to be driven through the heart of the creature, and the remains must then be burned," the Wolf described.
"Wood? Such a simple thing. Our blades make hardly an impact, how does wood inflict such damage?" Bea wondered.
The Wolf shrugged. "That is the way of it, I don't know why. But I've seen it."
Bea nodded. "Then several of my men will be equipped with sharpened staves when next we battle the Night-seekers. What other knowledge do you have?"
The Wolf hesitated. "The Night-seekers must be approached with caution. They can – hypnotize their prey, enthrall them. Men are powerless against it. I know it sounds like witchcraft, but –"
"It is amazing that these creatures even exist," Bea interrupted. "They are otherworldly, from Hel itself. Any mystical powers that they may possess does not surprise me." She paused. "However, my men are a suspicious lot, so we will keep that information between us until it becomes necessary to reveal it."
"As you say," the Wolf agreed.
"You will stay here tonight," Bea changed subjects abruptly. "You and John. He may keep an eye on the wounded, and you and I can discuss strategy for the upcoming battle."
"I am not a soldier," the Wolf protested, backing up the topic quickly. "I don't do strategy. I only offered up my expertise on the haemovores. I don't make battle plans."
Bea considered her thoughtfully. "You say you are not a soldier, Wolf, but I see battle and death in your eyes. You have seen war before."
"And the results were devastating," the Wolf informed her. "I will not partake again."
Bea was silent for a long moment before finally nodding. "Very well," she acquiesced. "Still, you and John will remain as our honored guests. You have both already done so much for us." She looked through the curtain at her people, and the Wolf saw the love and fear for them in Bea's eyes.
"Your house would follow you anywhere, woman or not," the Wolf said quietly.
The warrior looked over at her. "Aye. They have followed me to blood and death, but I would end this foul business."
Bea and her warriors entertained the Wolf and John throughout the evening meal with stories of their exploits from the time before the arrival of the haemovores. They were a rowdy bunch, John noticed, but had a deep loyalty to their leader. They may not have been a traditional house, but he got the feeling that they were fearless and would follow Bea anywhere.
After eating, John spent some time with Harald, whose sister happened to be Sigrid. She had been by her brother's side all evening, Bea having freed her from her duties to attend Harald. The young woman was stoic, hiding her emotions behind a mask as she tended her brother's wounds, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. John distracted Harald from his pains with stories of his adventures with the Wolf, carefully edited to fit the time period and to cover up the presence of aliens.
"Mistress Wolf sounds like an amazing woman," Sigrid said in admiration after John described the watered down events of what had occurred at 10 Downing Street. He had adjusted the tale to make it sound like one house had invaded a rival's land holdings, and had been eradicated through the use of fire bombs thrown from the trees surrounding the invaders' camp.
John nodded. "She is," he answered with a smile. "But tell me of your leader. She is quite extraordinary herself."
Harald managed a proud nod. "We have served Bea and her family for generations," he said through a grimace. "We stayed after her father's father freed all his thralls, including our parents."
"Thralls?" John asked.
"Slaves," Sigrid specified, taking up the story so Harald could relax. "Our parents, and their parents, and our ancestors before them were all slaves to this family, but Ubbe freed them when our parents were just children. Even before then, they were treated as people, not animals, as most chieftains act toward their thralls. So when they were given their freedom, our family stayed on as servants. And Harald was even allowed to train as one of Bea's father's carls – warriors – despite our low birth."
"They sound like quite the family," John said. "And Bea seems to be one of the greatest of them."
Sigrid smiled. "She is. But what of the Wolf?" she asked, switching topics. "Are you and she related?"
"Oh, no," John denied quickly. "I don't have any family, and neither does she." He shrugged, looking over at where the Wolf was still seated at the head of the table, talking animatedly with Bea. "We just sort of – found each other, I suppose. We've been together for a little over a year."
"Ah," Sigrid nodded understandingly. "You love her."
John whirled to look at the woman, alarmed. "No! No, it's nothing like that. The Wolf is my greatest friend. She was going through a difficult time when she found me, and I helped her through it, that's all," he tried to explain. "She'd just lost all her people, but she saved me. We're friends and we travel together, helping people when we can. Like now, for instance."
"It is a noble cause," Harald said quietly, "and a thankless one." The man began to cough, blood beginning to trickle down from the corner of his mouth. Sigrid hurried to dab it away, soothing the man until he relaxed.
"My brother needs rest," she apologized.
John nodded. "Yes. I'll check on him in the morning. Try to sleep," he told Harald gently, who gave the barest nod.
John stood and took his leave, going to look over some of the more badly injured warriors. Determining that they were all well-settled for the evening, he rejoined the Wolf and Bea at the table. The Wolf smiled at him when he sat next to her. "Is there a place we can sleep tonight?" he whispered in her ear. "I'm knackered."
"Yeah, Bea's going to give us a place. Let me just take our leave. You have to be polite about these things. Nords are easily insulted," the Wolf muttered quietly back. She turned to the leader. "John needs rest from treating the injured," she told Bea. "And I would sleep as well. If we may be excused from your presence?" she requested obsequiously, as befitted the warrior.
Bea nodded. "Of course. John, I thank you deeply for the assistance you have offered freely. A bed and a roof is the least I can do to repay you. And Wolf, your expertise is also greatly appreciated. Come, I will show you to your quarters." She stood, leading the pair to the far corner of the longhouse, pulling back a curtain to reveal a small room with two pallets made up. "I had a servant prepare this room for you. You will of course be given your privacy."
"Thank you, this will work perfectly for the night," the Wolf said.
"Sleep well." With that, Bea left them alone.
The Wolf looked over at John. He bowed, waving her in. "After you," he said gallantly. She chuckled and went through the curtain, holding it open for John to enter as well.
John threw himself down on a pallet with an exhausted sigh, relishing in its softness after a day of hard benches and trudging through a forest. "Some day, huh?" the Wolf asked, looking down at him in amusement.
John just gave her a content smile. "Something along those lines," he admitted. "So what did you and Bea talk about while I was seeing the men?"
The Wolf told John everything she and the warrior had discussed, including Bea's request that she take part in planning the battle that would no doubt take place soon. "I hate killing," the Wolf said sadly. "It goes against every fiber of my being, but these creatures – the haemovores – they are ruthless. They will kill everyone in their path. There's no stopping them by anything but death."
"You do what you must, Wolf," John said gently. "It's like with the Dalek's on the Game Station. I've already seen what the haemovores can do – Harald will be dead before tomorrow night, and there's nothing I can do about it in this day and age. And I hate that. I hate senseless death. But killing those creatures will save so many lives. And they were already locked in battle with the haemovores anyway. You just gave them an advantage," he tried to reassure her. "Now the fighting may end with less loss of life. That can only be to the good."
The Wolf sighed. "You're right." She looked sideways at him. "How are you always right?"
John grinned. "Of course I am. I'm just that good," he teased. "Besides, think of the literary consequences if Beowulf fails to kill Grendel," he joked. "Can you imagine? And that's another thing. Beowulf is real. He's real, only he's not a he, but a she, and she's got mad skills like Buffy Summers or something."
"Who?" the Wolf asked in confusion.
John turned his head to look at the Wolf, wondering if he should try to explain. "Never mind," he decided against it, too tired to make the attempt. "Not important."
"Who calls their child Buffy?" the Wolf asked curiously. "It's a strange name."
John couldn't hold back a laugh. "Indeed." Recognizing his exhaustion, the Wolf quieted and let John fall into sleep while she lay awake far into the night, contemplating her role in the current events.
John woke to the sounds of horns and the Wolf shaking his shoulder. "John, come on," she hissed. "The longhouse is under attack." He tried to jerk himself into awareness. "Alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," John murmured. "What do we do? Do we help?"
The Wolf shook her head. "This isn't our battle to fight. We're going out the back. I told Bea everything I know about the haemovores. They have to solve their own problems now," she told him, sounding regretful. "But we have to go now, before we get blocked off."
John nodded. "I understand," he said just a bit reluctantly. "Right behind you." He could hear the sounds of battle through the walls of the longhouse – men shouting and shrill screams that could only belong to a haemovore. The Wolf led him out the rear exit of the longhouse and through the barn connected to it. A guard they approached nodded respectfully and let them pass without a word.
Just as John and Wolf were reaching the edge of the forest, she tensed. "Wolf, what is it?" he asked a little nervously.
The Wolf whirled to face him. "We have to get to the woods. Quickly," she said in a terse whisper. "The haemovores split up to attack. I can feel the female in my mind."
"In your mind? What does that mean?" John questioned.
The Wolf shook her head. "No time. We're going." She reached back to grab his arm and pull him along, but John staggered suddenly as what felt like a sledgehammer hit his head. He groaned. "John?" the Wolf asked worriedly. "John!" There were screams and cries for Bea coming from the front of the longhouse, but the Wolf ignored them and concentrated on John. He fell to his knees with a cry of pain, clutching his head as white hot claws dug through his brain, trying to pull him out. "Johnny, listen to me," the Wolf ordered, crouching down to be on a level with him. "Concentrate on me. You're stronger than they are, but you need to focus."
John groaned again, grip tightening in his hair. "Wolf," he muttered weakly. "What's – happening –" He couldn't finish.
"The haemovore is trying to take control, but you can fight her off. Just focus on my voice," the Wolf coached. "Imagine a door to your mind, and close it to her. Lock it and throw away the key."
John shook his head. "I – can't – she wants –"
"You can, John. Please, try to fight her," the Wolf pleaded. Suddenly, John froze, limbs stiff. He stood up slowly, his eyes a blank well of black. The Wolf stood as well and backed away. "John?" she tried. "John, talk to me."
John moved his head to look at her, and the Wolf shivered at the emptiness she saw in his usually expressive eyes. "She – wants – you," he began in a dead tone. The Wolf's eyes widened. "Dead," John finished.
"John, this isn't you," the Wolf said as John advanced on her. "Try to think. I am not your enemy, John." He didn't reply – only kept walking towards her at a slow shamble. The guard from the longhouse came out to see what was going on, but the Wolf waved him away furiously. He quickly disappeared. The Wolf turned back to face John, who was still attempting to reach her, his arms out and clawing at her.
A/N 2: I received my test results this week, and I got a really good score! I'm so pumped right now, I literally had a meltdown when I saw it. Thank you so much to everyone who sent me well wishes and stuck with me through this summer. You guys are amazing!