Crimson's Captivation (16 page)

“Yes,” the king whispered, “I think they are.
I think they are speaking of us.”

“Why?”

“Because I drove my stake into the heart of
one of their own and buried him in the snow. Order the men to be
alert, especially those with alarm horns. We should keep our wits
about us as we move forward.”

The king and his men moved deeper into the
forest. The shadows grew longer and only a soft afterglow of the
blue sky above remained. The commander originally lined up the
formation so that they were five men abreast, but the formation
quickly fell apart as they navigated around trees, then an alarm
horn broadcasted from the far back, then another and another.

The king rushed toward the back of the
formation to find his men in complete confusion. Light was
completely gone. Riderless horses darted past him, the glisten of
fresh blood on their quarters. Another horn blasted. He found the
bulk of his troop and corralled them together. “Dismount! And
cover!” he screamed as he looked over the bodies that littered the
forest floor. He called out for the commander, but there was no
response.

“Where is the commander?” the king
yelled.

“Dead!” A soldier shouted back.

“Who is attacking us?” the king asked as he
backed into a soldier.

“More like what,” the soldier responded
between rapid gasps for air.

Then a creature, half wolf, half man dragged
a soldier in front of them and dropped him to the ground. The
soldier wallowed in pain. Blood ran into his eyes from a gash on
his scalp and he punched blindly at the creature with little
effect. Then the thing, the wolf, the man, or whatever it was, bit
into his neck, ripped away a mouthful of flesh, and the soldier
suddenly stopped thrashing, stopped fighting back. The creature
howled and two more creatures appeared behind him.

The king did a quick survey; around him in a
tight circle were fifteen or so men. “Hold your ground, men! Hold
your ground! Have your pikes charged and ready!” Sweat rolled down
his forehead and dripped onto the base of his pike. He felt energy
rush through him and took in a lungful of air. “Charge!” the king
yelled.

The men and the king took aim and rushed the
creatures with their pikes out and horizontal. The king missed his
mark and dove onto the ground to recover. He rolled onto his back
and brought the pike out in front of him again. The creature was
gone. He quickly sprang to his feet and heard something rushing
through the brush behind him. He turned and just as the creature
leapt, the king brought his pike up and centered it on the
creature’s chest. It impaled him and it let out a blood-curdling
howl, its limbs lashing out in final death throes toward the king.
Another soldier had similar luck and another creature howled when
the pike set in deep. The last creature halted his attack, growled
on all fours, the stood, turned, and tore through the woods, a blur
of flesh and fur. Then they were alone, the forest was silent and
still. Everyone froze, pikes out and ready. All they could hear was
their own heavy breathing and deserted horses thrash through the
woods as the animals bolted in all directions.

The king pulled his pike from the dead
creature and studied the dead animal. It seemed to shape shift,
depending on how he considered it. If he thought of the carcass as
human, then it looked more like a wolf with a long bridge for a
nose, canine teeth and curved fingernails. If he thought of it as a
wolf, it looked more human. The king prodded the animal with the
tip of his pike. “They’re gone,” the king said, “but they’ll be
back. Where is my commander?”

“He’s dead. Everyone is scattered, sir. What
do we do now?” the soldier at his side answered, winded and still
on edge and reacting to every sound in the woods.

“Sound the horns to regroup. Then collect any
injured and scour the woods for casualties.”

The king pulled a map from his pocket and
studied it. By his calculation, they were just north of the Polish
border and the only marking on the map indicated that the forest
ended along the border. He wanted to collect his men, inspect the
wounded, and bury the dead. He wanted to move as quickly as
possible through this unholy land, but knew better. He knew it was
best to burn any bodies and camp this night, a decision he was sure
would not sit well with his men.

They retreated to a clearing and set sentry
posts. The sun had long ago abandoned them and the bonfire of
bodies lit up the underside of the pine trees. The smell of burning
flesh was horrible, so strong that it was almost a taste that
floated on the air and coated the back of their throats. The final
count: twelve dead, sixteen injured to the point that they couldn’t
carry on, and forty-six unaccounted for. The remaining nineteen men
knew that some of the missing soldiers were in the woods, dead or
dying, but many of the others had fled when the ambush started. The
creatures just came from nowhere and the surprise of it, the sheer
voracity of the attack, scared them and the fear lingered. Though
they didn’t say it, they felt like running, too.

“Burn the wolves’ bodies, too,” the king
ordered.

“Yes, sir,” two men said as they made their
way back up the path to retrieve the bodies.

“Sir!” one soldier called out to the king
while dragging the carcass of one of the creatures.

“What is it?” the king asked.

“Sir, the wolf I slayed is gone. The only
body left is the one you killed.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Sir, with all due respect, how could I not
be? The blood of the creature was still on the ground, but the body
was gone as if he got up and walked away.”

“How can that be, they were both dead. Did
you pierce the heart?”

“Yes, sir, a number of times. I took no
chances.”

“Odd. Toss that damn thing on the fire and
bring me your pike. Bring mine, too.”

The two soldiers tossed the carcass on the
fire and watched for several minutes to ensure it didn’t suddenly
spring to life and run into the woods in some fiery retreat. They
collected the pikes as ordered and reported to the king. “Sir,” one
said, “the pikes.”

The king inspected the two pikes. Each was
covered with the dark red of dried blood. The only difference
between the two was that the king’s pike was tipped in ceremonial
silver.
That’s it
, he thought. He at once understood.
It
must be the silver
.

“Men!” the king shouted, “fall in and listen
to me very carefully.”

The men fell in, in front of the king. He
couldn’t help but notice that his once brave men, the very ones who
took the fight to the Russians and won with valor, were now like
frightened children.

“I want you to take all the silver crosses,
buckles, coins, anything that is silver that was collected from the
bodies of our fallen. Who here knows how to smelt?”

“I do,” one soldier volunteered.

Perfect, take the collected silver and smelt
it. We need enough to cover the tip of every man’s pike. Do you
understand? It’s the silver that kills them”

“Yes, sir.”

The king pulled the soldier who volunteered
to smelt the silver to the side. “Listen, when you cover the pike
tips in silver, select someone or several men to polish them to a
high gloss. I want those creatures to see that we are prepared. I
want them to know that another attack will lead to perpetual death
for any that we slay. They know these woods and this is our only
advantage.”

“Yes, my king.”

What remained of the king’s men couldn’t
relax as nightfall came. They constantly fed the hardest wood they
could find to the fire until it was red-hot. They were delighted
when the silver began to melt and each was eager to have his pike
dipped into the brilliant armament. Sentries teamed and watched the
parameter of the camp. Orphaned horses moved in the dense brush.
The sudden sound would startle them, and horns would falsely
bellow. While the men were concerned for their well-being, the king
lay on his back and studied the stars. Above them was the Arms of
Scutum, named for the King of Poland who turned back the Turks. The
king told the men of the tale, hoping to boost their morale and
take their minds off what was in the woods.

Finally, one soldier asked what they all
wanted to know. “What were they, sir? There were so few yet they
devastated us.”

The king pulled his blanket over him and
said, “They were lucky and caught us off guard is all. You saw,
once we fell in formation and went on the offensive, they quickly
fell. No man or horror can defeat men who are well trained.”

He pulled the blanket over his head and
ordered from underneath, “Try to get some sleep.” He reached out
and pulled his pike next to his body. His eyes were wide open.

* * * *

Viktor and his men made great time across the
swathe of Sweden. Throughout the day, the winter sun never seemed
to get all the way above the horizon. It just seemed to sit and
wait for the earth to rotate past it. The air was crisp and cold,
especially so in the late afternoon. They were still half a day’s
travel before they would arrive at Stockholm. Then, ahead of them,
the troublesome task of finding a sea captain that would scurry
them across the Baltic. But Viktor knew, he just knew he would find
one. He had to, to find his love and rescue her. Surely, there was
one brave soul left that believed in love.

They settled in an open field just south of
Bolstomta, found firewood, and made camp and nibbled on their
provisions. It dawned on Viktor that he was now near the very spot
he, it, his mission, this had all started. “Gentlemen, you can’t
see it because it is dark, but just south of us is Lake Karlberg,
the very spot I fell in love.”

His men couldn’t care less. Their thoughts
were more about escaping this rescue mission as soon and as
honorably as they could. They secretly wished a cavalry of men
would gallop by and order them to join the ranks, convinced there
was security in numbers. But as Viktor continued with his story,
the men quieted and listened intently.

“She agreed to meet me there and believe me
it took everything to convince her, but I was so delighted that she
did. My heart pounded stronger and faster than the horse I rode to
meet her. But it was worth it. In a word, she was ravishing.”

“How did you convince her?” one of men asked,
more interested in passing time.

“Not really sure, it’s all a blur, really,
but I promised my heart to her. Honestly, how we ended up there is
beyond me, but we did. When I arrived, she was sitting under a
willow wearing a white blouse that seemed to capture the falling
rays of the sun and, trust me, she had the power to do with the
rays as she pleased. The golden hue of the afternoon sun seemed to
encapsulate her, it embraced everything that was beautiful and she
glowed. I dismounted and let my horse run free. I just didn’t care.
I was completely unsure of what to do next.”

“What did you do?” the youngest soldier
asked.

“I stepped toward her. Patted my right pant
pocket to make sure I hadn’t lost the gift, a diamond necklace I
had purchased months in advance, and I sat beside her underneath
the willow. I would love to tell you I controlled it, the
encounter, but that would be a lie. I now know she was in control
the entire time, even before we agreed to meet. I now know she was
in control the moment I first said hello. At times, her lips were
so close to mine that I think my heart stopped and I sensed my
breaths escape me. I think I breathed, but I’m not sure.”

His men leaned in closer; in unison they
asked, “What happened next?”

“Well an honorable man, a gentleman, should
never tell, but since you two are so inquisitive, I guess there’s
no harm in telling my tale, but know this, I was in love before
this day. I think I loved her the moment I saw her.”

“Well?” the men grilled, not concerned with
the trivial details of love.

Viktor closed his eyes and fell on his back,
recalling that distant day. “I will say this. She didn’t
disappoint. As beautiful as she was dressed, she was breathtaking
when naked. And she was slow, so slow to reveal herself. And I was
in a state of pure anticipation. I have to admit, my mouth watered
when I saw her exposed rounded breasts and erect nipples. All I
could think of was kissing her, placing my mouth and hands on her.
In a sense, I wanted to consume her, all of her, every ounce, and
every inch of her beautiful flesh. The thought of her near me, with
me, and her revealing herself to me drove me nuts. I couldn’t make
up my mind what part of her I wanted first.”

“And then?” they both asked, a bit agitated
with the useless semantics.

“What?” Viktor teased, knowing they wanted
the details.

“What happened? Did you fuck her?” the bolder
of the two asked, wanting to get to it.

“No. What happened between us was far from
the quick soldier sex you have with the common townswoman. Crimson
and I made love. Do you know what it means to make love?”

“No!” the two responded, disappointed in the
lack of details.

“You actually make love,” Viktor replied, his
mind elsewhere, searching that hidden spot in hearts where love
hides. “Love was there between us, but when you make it, it fills
your imagination and becomes a thin invisible shroud that wraps the
two individuals into one. It snares in everything like the nets we
use to fish with. Forget about the release you two have during a
quick tryst behind a tree. There is no comparison. When you’re
making love, you kiss her skin and it’s even sweeter. When you kiss
her mouth, it’s tender and hungry at the same time. When you touch
her, her body seems to know who you are and it wants you. Making
love makes your toes curl, but not because you orgasm. It is far
more satisfying. Emotions, bodies, tongues, hands seem to glide
over and through each other and it’s buzzing all around you. That
same thin shroud that wraps you brings about an immense intensity.
It lets no touch, no gasp, or emotion escape. Everything was
trapped and it’s lovely and exciting. Then the afterglow and it’s
completely absent of selfish treachery. All you can sense is your
own humanity and the immortality of love. Then that invisible
shroud slowly slips off the sweat-covered bodies. It faded away and
there, next to you, is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen
and you’re connected. You know you’re forever connected. It
reshapes your mind.”