Storm and Kweinos

They came.

A black bulk crashed through the woods. Powerful muscles and sleek bones rippled like water. It leapt to the left, sprang to the right, swerving around the elms. Everywhere it went, a black cloud trailed behind. It halted at the edge of the forest, bared its teeth at me, and growled.

Once it was a wolf. Bathed in Kweinos, it had been warped into something worse. Its eyes were embers, burning red in the fading light. Murk steamed from its salivating jaws. It came up to my belly, massed as much as a man. Lean it was, as though half-starved, but its neck and forelegs were swollen to an unnatural size.

This was the least of them.

Were I standing in the wall, I would have lowered my visor. Here I could not. I needed to track all four Kwei-wolves, and a helmet with a closed visor left a man half-blind and deaf. Verdwer striker held close, I stepped through a tight circle, looking for the rest of the pack.

Three more Kwei-wolves were behind me, spread out in a line, each larger and mightier than the one before me. They, too, had burning eyes and smoking mouths.

The Kwei-wolves stalked back and forth, winding around tree trunks, tracking my every move. Everywhere I went, a wolf waited to cut me off. They were watching me, pressuring me, waiting for me to break. It was how wolfpacks hunted larger prey.

I am a Godsworn of Perkaus, and Kwei-beasts are my prey.

Facing the three large wolves, I brought my left foot forward and lowered my Verdwer striker between my legs. This was the Middle Iron Gate. I spun the weapon around so that the axe blade faced down. I shifted the grip of my left hand, thumb now facing the butt.

I lurched at the beasts.

“Come!” I shouted. “Come and die!”

As I spoke, the Storm-Rage came upon me. Fire and fury filled my veins. All was bright and sharp and clear. Renewed strength flowed into my limbs. Joy burst in my heart. Here was a clean fight, and a fight was what I knew.

The Kwei-wolves reared away. I gestured the Verdwer striker towards them once, twice. They spread out warily, but still they glared at me.

I spun on my heels, turning towards the lone wolf, and leapt.

“HA!”

I speared the butt spike at the smallest wolf. Had I a full-length spear I would have spitted it. The spike fell just short of its soft nose. Yelping, it flinched away.

I reeled in the polearm, then stepped and thrust again. In that half-beat, the Kwei-wolf circled to my left and closed. It gave tongue and dove for my leg.

Grinning, I stepped back and swung from hip to hip.

The axe crashed into the Kwei-wolf’s skull. The blow released a portion of the stored Breath in the Storm-stones. With a flash of blue-white light and a crash of thunder, the beast’s head burst in a welter of gore. The rest of its body went tumbling away.

Now I faced its kin. Extending my right leg, I shifted my weight back on my bent left leg, and lowered my polearm. This was the Long Tail. In this stance, I shuffled towards the wolf on the right.

It growled. I closed. Kweinos spilled from its open mouth. I closed. It lowered itself. I closed.

It leapt.

I swung.

The Verdwer striker arced like the moon and crashed like thunder. The axe split its spine. The Storm blasted the Kwei-beast clean in half.

Maddened by blood, the remaining Kwei-wolves howled and charged.

I swung around just in time to see them burst from the woods. I pushed off my right foot, making distance as I brought the Verdwer striker to my left hip. The closer one snapped at my leg.

I greeted it with the butt spike.

The spike buried itself in its brain. The Storm destroyed what was left of its head.

Through the storm of blood, the last Kwei-wolf struck.

There was pressure. There was ice. That was all. Then the beast slammed into me with all its weight and my balance broke.

I toppled to the right. My right leg shot backwards, catching me before I fell. My arms flung the Verdwer striker above my head. The Kwei-wolf gnawed, trying to find purchase.

I plunged the butt spike into the beast’s back.

Light. Thunder. Its chest blew open. At once it went still. Still its lifeless jaws were closed around my ankle.

I looked about. There were no more Kwei-beasts in sight. I set down my polearm, gripped the beast’s jaws in each hand, and pried them open. Then I cast the Kwei-wolf aside.

As suddenly as it had come, the Storm-Rage receded. I staggered with a sudden weariness. The weight of my plate doubled. Strength bled from my thews, leaving behind an emptiness.

Pain rushed into the gap. Hot blood dripped down my leg. Murk clung to my wounds.

My heart thundered in my chest. Bent over, I tested the wounded leg. Arrows of agony shot through my ankle. Gritting my teeth, I picked up my weapon and limped over to the nearest tree. I sat down, peeled off the boot, rolled up the leg of my breeches, and beheld the wounds.

A score of holes wept fresh blood. Kweinos coated them, sinking into me. Already the lips of the wounds were blackening.

I so very much wanted to close my eyes, to sleep, to rest. I could not. Not here. Not with Kweinos in my blood.

I placed one hand on the Storm-stones, the other on my injury, and breathed.

The blasts and the workings had spent much of the Breath in the Storm-stones. What remained trickled out. I let the Breath of the Striker enter me, and do what it had to do.

There was pain. It floated somewhere far away. There was light. There was heat. Together they drove out the Kweinos and burnt it into nothing.

Then the Storm-Breath was spent.

The murk was gone. The wounds remained. Until they could Breathe again, the Storm-stones were just dull rocks.

A body lay nearby. Kerson Menas-Sonu. I’d never liked him, but death by poison was a bad end. He never had a chance to swing his weapon.

I took up his Verdwer striker. Again I touched a hand to the Storm-stones, again I brought the other to my wounds, and again I Breathed.

The Storm came once again. Once again, white-blue light scorched the wounds. I hissed at the pain. Before my eyes, they sealed shut, leaving angry red worms.

I rested until my breath returned. Then I rolled down my breeches and put on my boot. Using both polearms as crutches, I forced myself to my feet. Pain lingered in my injured leg, but at least I could walk on it.

Slung around Kerson’s neck was his waterskin. When I shook it, I found that it was mostly empty. Men in armor, marching in the mountains, would sweat enough to fill a lake.

Then I remembered: I had lost my own waterskin. The blow must have flung it deep into the woods. There was no use hunting for it now. I claimed his waterskin as my own, then Breathed the Storm into the water.

“Hallower, bless this water and purify it of poison and disease,” I whispered.

I pulled the stopper and took a swig. The water was sweet, and sparked on my tongue. It tasted like the air in the wake of a lightning strike, crisp and bitter but fresh.

There was nothing like wine after a good fight. Without wine, water would do. Already I felt my breath ease and my heart slow.

I laid Kerson’s weapon over his chest, and placed his hands upon the hammer and the axe.

“Kerson Menas-sonu, this is the first time you have ever helped me,” I said. “I wish to remember you like this.”

The man next to Kerson had his waterskin also. I hallowed the water, then filled the scavenged waterskin until it was full.

Briefly I thought about searching the bodies and gathering what other gear I could find. Then I heard a distant howling.

Night was coming. It was well past time to leave.

Bringing up my own polearm, I looked about, trying to regain my bearings. The trail sloped uphill to my left, downhill to my right.

I turned right.

[Was it worth it?]

I startled.

[Aren’t you supposed to be a Godsworn?] she continued.

I grumbled. [It had to be done.]

[Why?]

[What do you mean, why? Without the Last Prayer, the bodies would rot into Kweinos. They might even come back as anses. Everyone knows this.]

[Is that what you believe?]

[It is what I was taught. Were you taught differently?]

She made a sound.

[What does that mean?] I demanded.

[Why do you care about what happened to the dead?]

[They were Godsworn. A fallen Godsworn could return as a mighty ansos. It would prey on the people. Then we’ll even more Kwei-beasts to slay.]

[Is that all?]

I frowned. [What more do you want to know?]

[Everything.]

[Why do you care?]

[Because.]

[Because what?]

[Because!]

“Eh,” I said out loud.

The raven laughed.

[I will tell you when you are ready.]

I grunted.

[Well?] she asked. [Why else did you speak the Last Prayers? Why did you sing the sekwa for the dead?]

I shut my eyes for a moment. Names and faces flashed before me.

[They were men. They were… my oath-brothers. They deserved a witness.]

[Yes,] she replied. [They did. I see now why I was sent to you.]

[Who sent you? Who are you? What are you?]

[Descend the mountain. Make camp. Then we will talk.]

I wanted to press her for answers. But speaking to a voice in your head pulled you away from watching for Kwei-beasts.

Weapon in hand and waterskin at my side, I headed down the mountain.