Wendigo Wars (16 page)

“So they give a display of their skills with weapons?”

“Not quite. Just watch.”

Mathilde returned her attention to the groups. She realised that the fires made up a large circle and the spectators stood behind the circle of fire. Tobias walked to the centre of the ring with one of the Brothers. Tobias wore a white robe with a richly embroidered silk scarf. The boy with him had dark hair and was small and wiry. He wore a tunic and loose pants. Tobias addressed the crowd.

“Brothers and guests. So here we gather once again, united against our common enemy. Our guests today come seeking our help yet they are not sure that we will be a fit match for the wendigo in battle.”

Raucous laughter went around the crowd. Tobias gave a good natured smile.

“This is a good night for our friends to have arrived; the night of the Fire Dance. Tonight we have two displays. Our first display will be from one of our younger fighters Costin. He has had but nine years of training yet he has proved to be as skilled as many older fighters.”

Mathilde leaned in for a closer look. The boy did indeed look young. Perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old. Her curiosity was peaked at how good a fighter one so young could be.

“And so on with our display. Please bring forth our contender.”

Tobias stood back from the centre of the ring and two men wheeled in a large cage. Mathilde’s breath caught and she looked around the circle to see that her fellow Protectors also stood open mouthed, all frivolity suddenly gone. The members of the Polovragi Brotherhood did not seem shocked, in fact their cheering heightened. Looking at the poor victim, Costin, Mathilde was surprised to see that he was smiling and bouncing about on the spot. He had picked up a sword and a flail which he was weighing in his hand as he waited for the display to begin. The men dragging the cage stopped and unlocked the heavy silver padlock. Mathilde saw the human eyes of a nine foot tall wendigo staring greedily out through the bars. The two men pulled open the cage doors then ran to safety behind the fires. The role of the circle of fire now became more obvious to Mathilde; a circle of protection for the spectators.

“We have to help him,” said Mathilde turning to grab Dash’s arm. Dash stroked her hand soothingly.

“He doesn’t need our help Mathilde. You underestimate them still. Just watch.”

Mathilde looked back to the circle. The wendigo was still in the cage. Though its way was now clear it seemed to be assessing the situation. Then its hunger got the better of it and it leapt for its meal. Costin skipped to one side. Each time the wendigo leapt for him he would skip away again. They circled each other but he was always one step ahead. By the time the wendigo had pounced he had moved. Then the wendigo reverted to type and gave up the battle of wills. He leapt full on at Costin, he jumped fifteen feet high and on his descent slashed with sharp, jagged claws and bit at Costin but the boy was ready. In a whirlwind of maneuvers he sliced at the wendigo with his sword and hit at its head with his flail. The wendigo howled in rage as cut after cut appeared on its body and face. It slashed at Costin again, this time giving him a deep gash in his side which would have floored many men twice his size but Costin kept moving, jumping, spinning and toppling. With each move he slashed at the wendigo but the wendigo still towered above him, skeletal but muscular, and it didn’t fall. Costin jumped up into the sky and somersaulted over the wendigo, slashing downwards with his sword as he did. Hi sliced one of the human eyes open and the wendigo screeched as the eyeball split through the middle but he did not slow and when Costin landed badly the wendigo was upon him. Pinning him to the ground the wendigo threw back his head and gave a hyena laugh.

“We have to help,” gasped Mathilde but as soon as she said the words she saw a look of surpsire in the wendigo’s remaining eye and it slumped on the boy.

The boy hoisted the wendigo’s heavy, limp body away then stood up. In one hand he held his sword, blood dripping down the blade and covering his hand. In the other hand he held a heart which he held up for the crowd. The roar from the crowd drowned out every other noise and five people from the crowd ran to the centre of the ring, patting Costin on the back before dragging the body of the dead wendigo away.

Once the cheers had quietened Tobias entered the ring and looked at Mathilde. “Guests, I ask once again. Will you accept our offer of friendship and take twenty of our finest fighters with you when you on your rescue mission?”

Mathilde stepped into the circle and walked towards the Centre. She shook Costin’s blood stained hand then turned to Tobias. “We accept most gratefully,” she shouted. The crowd cheered.

“So now for our second display of the night,” said Tobias with a smile. “You tell us of your skill in fighting so we offer you the greatest honour we can bestow on one of our warriors; the chance to take part in a Fire Dance. Do you have a volunteer on which we can bestow this honour?”

Tobias moved his arm back in a wide sweeping motion which drew all eyes to a second cage which had now been brought into the circle. Within it was a wendigo just as tall as the one before but this one was not so tame. It slashed at the bars in fury and the rabid look in its eyes told of its need to gorge.

Chapter Twenty

Mathilde looked at the beast. Though Tobias raised this as a great honour she could not help but feel that it was more of a test. Why should they send their best fighters into battle with her if her own fighters couldn’t hold their own?

“I will fight,” said Seb as he stood forwards from the crowd.

“Or I,” said Paul, coming to stand by his side.

Louisa stood forward followed by Alan and Jewel. Before long they had all offered to be the representative of the Protectors in the Fire Dance. Mathilde looked from one to the other. She admired their courage. She ruled Paul out; though he was experienced he was also older and less agile than the others. Jewel and Alan still had a lot to learn and, like her, Louisa’s weapon of choice was a crossbow, no good in close combat. That left Seb, definitely the strongest of the group and with his axe he was formidable in close range. Mathilde smiled her thanks to all of her companions for standing forward for such a terrifying task.

“You have many brave fighters,” said Tobias. “Which one do you choose?”

“I will fight,” said Mathilde. As soon as the words had left her mouth both Seb and Dash were by her side.

“Don’t do this Mathilde. I can’t lose you. Let Seb fight,” begged Dash.

For once Seb was in agreement with him. “You can’t fight Mathilde. Your crossbow will not be a help to you in this. We don’t have the agility of the Brotherhood. We win our battles through standing as a group. If we are to fight one on one then our best chance is me. If we can’t offer agility then we must offer strength. You are our leader Mathilde and we need to keep you safe so that you can lead us into battle.”

“And as your leader it is up to me to prove our worth. I will not send any of you into a fight I would not be willing to fight myself. Though it is not my weapon of choice I am accomplished with a sword Seb; you know that.”

“But Tilly...” a pleading note had entered Seb’s voice and his eyes reflected what looked to be fear or pain.

“No! I will not argue this. I am your Protector Superior and you will stand back and rejoin the group. Now!”

Seb looked at Mathilde in the eyes for a few seconds longer then nodded and went to join the other Protectors. They also began to protest but he shook his head at them and moved them to the safe side of the fire circle. Dash looked at Mathilde. She glared him a warning and he also moved back to where he had been standing, behind the fire circle but separate from the Protectorate.

Tobias nodded at Mathilde then addressed the crowd. “It shows great courage to put yourself in the path of danger to protect those who follow you. Our champion for the next Fire Dance shall be Mathilde Fiddell.”

The crowd cheered and Mathilde smiled at them. Something niggled at her stomach and she thought it nerves until she realised that it was the warning niggle of something being out of place. How had Tobias known her surname was Fiddell. Did he know of the prophecy? She racked her brains to think if there had been a moment where Dash had introduced her as such but none came. Then it was too late for thinking.

Tobias moved to the outside of the circle and the cage doors were pulled open. One of them splintered and flew into the crowd as the wendigo dashed out and leapt straight at Mathilde. Mathilde looked quickly around and found there were various weapons lying on the floor for her use. She grabbed a spear and held it up just in time to slow the wendigo’s progress. It jarred and threw her to the floor as the spear tip lodged in the wendigo’s shoulder. The wendigo grabbed the spear and ripped it out leaving a hollow wound which dripped blood. The iced blood of the wendigo froze the second it hit the ground and the blood on the fur and skin of the wendigo crystalised and glittered like rubies. Mathilde jumped to her feet and grabbed a sword. She slashed at the wendigo’s legs and managed to slice through the tendons at the back of one knee. The wendigo stumbled to its knees but reached out and sliced Mathilde’s arm from shoulder to elbow. If she survived it would be another icy wound which would scar and cause constant localised cold for the rest of her years. Mathilde dropped the sword she was holding and the wendigo moved in again, its face came closer this time, the human eyes shot hate at her and the teeth were almost close enough to bite her face. The wendigo sliced at her stomach, an instinct for the wendigo to go for the fleshy middle which held the intestines and the other offal meats they loved so much. Mathilde threw herself backwards and barely missed the slice. She fell on her knees and felt around on the floor for a weapon. She couldn’t find anything. Scrabbling backwards, her gaze fixed on the wendigo. She reached the edge of the circle and looked around. She grabbed a burning stick from the fire and flew at the wendigo with all of the hate and frustration of her years of prophesized fate in her. If she was going to die it would be with courage, not running away from the creature.

The wendigo was moving at a great speed towards her and they clashed in the middle of the circle. The wendigo grabbed Mathilde’s wrists and yanked her nine feet off the ground so that they were nose to nose. It tried to wrench her arms from the sockets but her blood made one of her arms slippery enough to free it from its grip and she plunged the burning stick deep into one of its eyes. A sizzling noise blended with the scream of the wendigo and the smell of burning fur and eye fluid made Mathilde want to vomit but she held fast. The wendigo kept hold of her still by one wrist and shook her like a rag doll but Mathilde used her free hand to wrench the stick free from the wendigo’s skull and thrust it into the beast’s stomach. It tore through the thin leathery skin and straight through the thin body, coming out the other side. The wendigo collapsed to the ground but Mathilde knew the fight was not over. Injuries that would kill a human merely slowed a wendigo. She scrabbled around the ground looking for a weapon and finally found a short sword. She crawled back to the wendigo, her arm now burning with the start of frostbite from the wendigo’s poisoned claws.

The wendigo writhed on the floor but tried to get up. Mathilde jumped astride its stomach and brought the sword quickly down to its chest. Hacking and chopping away while the wendigo bucked and clawed at her. She finally got through the chest wall and plunged her hand into the hole. Finding the tough but squashy heart she wrapped her fingers around it. She could feel it beating and yanked at it but it didn’t move. She looked around for the sword but it had slipped from view and she couldn’t afford the advantage she would lose if she moved from on top of the wendigo.

The wendigo bellowed and slashed at Mathilde once more. She tried to ignore the many blistering agonies as claws cut her flesh and she plunged both hands into the cavity. Linking her fingers around the heart she pulled again, putting her foot on the wendigo’s stomach for leverage. With a sickening, ripping noise the heart came away in her hands and she threw herself off the wendigo. For an impossibly long time the wendigo continued to writhe and slash before finally falling still and silent.

The crowd roared and Mathilde fell to lie on her back. She stared at the black sky, swimming with silver stars. They looked calm. She began to breathe again, not having realised that she had been holding her breath in the first place. The various cuts and slashes on her body began to sting and throb. She wondered how many injuries she had. Suddenly the stars and sky were replaced by the kindly bearded face of Tobias. He held out a hand to her. Heaving a sigh Mathilde stood up. Seb and Dash were already by her side, each with worried looks on their faces. She gave them a stern look and they backed off. She had just slaughtered a wendigo twice her size. Overprotective male posturing was not exactly needed.

“You fight well,” said Tobias.

“Though I am ashamed to say, not as elegantly as your Brotherhood do,” Mathilde said and looked at Costin who approached her to shake hands. He had very few injuries and very little damage or blood on his clothes. Looking down at herself and her shredded tops and pants she wondered if she really looked like she had taken a bath in blood as much as she thought she did from this angle.

“Ah but there is a time for elegance and a time for primal survival and each has their place in an effective army.”

“So that is what we are building?” asked Mathilde, hearing that word again. “An army?” She wondered who had started the idea of an army; her, Dash or Tobias?

“My dear it looks like one may be needed soon if General Zhu is truly as experienced in military warfare as we believe he is.”

Mathilde nodded in agreement. It seemed that, whoever’s idea it was, this was not something which would be resolved merely by un-coordinated fighting. War was looming.

Chapter Twenty One