dA Story Request 2021 #1 - Werewolf and Spice (Patreon)

Wardrobe302

"A lowly knight, who resorts to scavenging and dessecration of tombs, graves and abandoned castles to find gear and weapons to sell and hunt to eat, is confronted by a wounded and weakened werewolf who thinks of him as one of the mercenaries/hunters who came to finnaly end her. The knight tries to flee but they are corraled by the hunters, whom he assumes are plunderers also comming for him. After they fend off the hunters, a mutually beneficial friendship/relationship begins."

Thick, soupy mist clung to the pine-covered hills of the Seven Eyes, shrouding the rambling expanse of brush and greenery in indistinct monochrome. The dome-shaped peaks resembled islands floating in a swirling, ghostly ocean. Below in the dales, dells, gullies and crevasses intersecting the hills, the world was white, still and almost entirely silent. Occasionally, a bead of moisture would coalesce on the end of a leaf and then drip to the ground with the softest plop.

Adden winced as a tight pain gripped his stomach. The stringy rabbit he'd eaten for breakfast seemed to be exacting its revenge from beyond the grave. He didn't stop but slowed his pace. The ache gradually faded but the uncomfortable tightness persisted. Adden silently prayed to any gods who might be listening that it would pass - in every sense of the word. He reached for his tattered waterskin and drained it of its last mouthful. As he tucked the empty receptacle back into his belt he noticed, with dismay, that the twine holding his left épauliere - his metal shoulder guard - in position was fraying. He had no replacement twine, let alone leather cord, and doubted he could procure any this far out in the frontier even if he had the coin to spare. He also noted that his chain shirt had acquired a reddish tinge.

With a weary sigh, Adden sat on a large rock. He set his backpack on the wet, grassy ground and untied his épauliere. He placed the piece of armor on his lap, tore a section of fabric from the left sleeve of his already ragged fustian and twisted it into a thick strand. After some fumbling he managed to thread the strand through the shoulder guard's straps. Satisfied, he donned the épauliere, tied it and rose. It felt looser on his shoulder now but he was fairly certain it wouldn't slip off. He couldn't do anything about the chainmail for the time being; with any luck he'd be able scavenge some lingin oil before the shirt crumbled into rust.

This is the real reason knights serve lords thought Adden bitterly as he continued walking. Leather, oil, food, coal, bandages, lodging, blacksmith services, whetstones...it all adds up.

A lone wolf howl filled the air. Adden froze, and listened. The beast was far away but still warranted caution. Adden continued onward but kept a hand on his sword's hilt.

An hour or so passed. It was difficult to ascertain the time of day in the fog but by Adden's reckoning the sun would set in three hours. He unrolled a crumpled piece of parchment - a map - and ran a gloved finger along its yellow surface, tracing a route between its inked contours. Though not the most impressive piece of cartography it clearly depicted a small keep on the western shore of the Scena River. Adden looked up and around at his surroundings. He realized he was not sure where he was. A few of the nearby hills vaguely fit what was inscribed upon the parchment but he did not recall passing through a heart-shaped glen. He checked the map again and examined his surroundings again.

"Bollocks," growled Adden, stuffing the map back into his pouch.

He turned and started marching up a nearby hill for a better view. He moved between the trees, bushes and brambles, his mud-caked boots leaving deep prints in the soft earth.

After a half-hour's walk he reached the summit. Adden paused a moment to wipe cold sweat from his brow. The mist was lighter up higher and the elevation provided a far better view. He started surveying the landscape, pausing every so often to reference the map.

Several minutes passed.

"Damn," hissed Adden.

Try as he might, he simply could not reconcile what he saw with what was drawn. Indeed, he felt more lost than before. Just as he was about to give up, a telltale glitter of distant water caught his eye. Adden turned, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the ruddy orange glow of the afternoon sun. Owing to the distance it appeared to be little more than a thin, shimmering thread winding between trees and hills, but the longer he stared at it, the more confident Adden grew that he had sighted the Scena River. And even he hadn't, he needed water. Heartened, he made his way back down the hill and started walking towards the river.

Another hour passed. The air grew cold; Adden's breath soon resembled the surrounding mist. Then, his ears perked up. Though he could not see anything beyond a stone's throw he could just make out the sound of trickling water. Gradually, a pebbly beach materialized ahead of him, beyond which lay a wide, shallow river.

Thanking all gods above and below, Adden scampered towards the shore, half-collapsing upon reaching the river's edge. He dipped his hands into the water and started drinking. It was shockingly cold but also clean and crisp. He sat up, wiped his mouth and sighed contentedly. He reached inside his backpack for a small cloth bundle cradling a quarter loaf of cracked-wheat bread and a finger of salted-pork. He devoured both. Though they represented the last of his rations he was confident the area around the river would be plentiful with game, perhaps even fish.

Adden looked around. The Scena - assuming the river was the Scena - extended a good hundred yards shore to shore. Its water was as clear as glass; he could see the sand and count the stones littering the riverbed even in the fading light. He estimated it was only a foot deep at the water's edge and gradually deepened to knee or waist-height towards the center. Through the mist he could make out a ghostly outline of the opposite shore. There was no beach - just a steep slope rising from the water that transitioned to an enormous rocky outcropping.

Hang on...

Adden rose and stared at the outcropping. He took a few steps forward, wetting his boots. He spied a small rectangular shape at the base of the stony mound. It took him almost a minute to recognize it for what it was.

"A door," breathed Adden.

Or perhaps only a doorway? Regardless, what he had assumed to be a geological feature was in fact the weathered side of a fortress - the fortress he had been searching for - right on the western shore. Adden whooped with joy and started fording the river. At first he avoided touching the waters by stepping - occasionally leaping - from stone to stone. Ultimately, he was forced to wade into the river. He kept his eyes trained ahead of him at all times, carefully avoiding clusters of large stones and deep depressions in the riverbed.

Upon reaching the other side Adden lifted himself out of the water and onto the embankment. Panting, he gazed up at the fortress. From what he had gathered it was a small but heavily fortified military outpost, capable of housing no more than a few dozen soldiers. The crenellated walls stood twelve feet high. Numerous arrow slits interrupted its stony surface. The slate slab roof of the small keep could be seen peeking above the parapet. There didn't appear to be any egress into the courtyard apart from the door he had spied through the mist; the main gate likely lay on the opposite wall.

Adden removed his waterlogged boots and hose; the former he left inverted on the ground and the latter he squeezed dry. He looked down at his bare, pale feet, wiggling his toes. His gaze drifted along the ground, whereupon he spotted a set of tracks in the mud. Curious, Adden leaned forward to examine them. They were large - wider than those of a man's but not quite as long. Despite their exceptional size they couldn't have been left by a bear or mountain cat. If anything, they resembled wolf prints, though it would have to have been left by the largest wolf Adden had ever seen. He thought back to the howl he had heard on his way to the fortress, shuddered, and decided he needed to find a way inside the keep as soon as possible.

He put his hose and boots back on. Though no longer soaked they were still wet and chilled his feet. Nevertheless, Adden stood and headed towards the door. As he neared it, however, he saw that the door did not lead through the wall. Rather, it was just a door of a small wooden shack that had been built against the wall. He checked inside just to be certain but sure enough, the tiny shed was empty and offered no egress into the keep.

A humorless chuckle escaped Adden's lips. Of course the door didn't lead into the fortress. It wouldn't have made any sense. Why build a stronghold with such a glaring defensive weakness?

Adden circled the fort. Apart from the main gates - a set of thick oaken doors reinforced with heavy iron bars that would have taken a team of sappers to break through - there appeared to be no way inside. This left him with only option. Adden removed a grappling hook and length of hemp rope from his backpack. After tying one end of the rope to the hook, he whirled the latter around his head and then hurled it over the walls. It took five attempts to get a solid grip but once he had, he quickly scaled the walls.

Adden surveyed the fortress. Apart from a simple well (its bucket missing) and a small stable near the gate, the courtyard below was barren, though irregular mounds of dirt in a corner hinted that the soldiers had maintained a small garden. The keep - the only unattached structure in the courtyard - resembled a broad, rectangular stone tower dotted with a few open windows. All was still and silent.

The small hairs on the back of Adden's neck stood on end. The place was supposed to be abandoned but something seemed off. He unsheathed his sword and cautiously proceeded down the stairs.

As he traversed the courtyard Adden glanced down and saw clusters of footprints and hoofprints preserved in the hard dirt. He carefully scanned each impression and, once confident none were recent, made his way to the stables. There was nothing inside save for a few scattered fragments of straw. He checked the storage room in the back but it too was bare.

Adden scowled. The soldier who sold him the map had claimed the contingent hadn't been able take everything of value when they abandoned the fortress. Clearly they had had enough time to strip the stables. That left the gatehouse and the keep itself. The gatehouse was locked and heavily fortified. It would, by Adden's estimation, take him the rest of the day to break in, and he doubted he had enough energy left to accomplish the feat after his long journey. The keep, however, could be accessed through a simple wooden door that could be easily forced open if locked.

Adden checked. It wasn't even locked.

He peered into the keep's dark interior. He sheathed his sword and reached back for a small torch tucked in his belt. After wrapping the head with a naphtha-soaked rag he knelt, took out some flint and a steel striker and lit the torch. He lifted the crackling thing into the air, unsheathed his sword and ventured inside.

* * *

By the time Adden finished, the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. The mist had grown even thicker, enveloping the courtyard in a foggy haze.

Adden emerged from the keep with a burlap sack in one hand and his torch in the other; his expression was neither one of ebullience nor disappointment. He made his way along the courtyard towards the stables. Once inside he set the torch in a nearby sconce, sat in one of the stalls and set both the sack and his backpack down. He removed his armor and unrolled a large sleeping bag. He then carefully upturned the burlap sack, spilling its contents onto the bag.

It was a mixed bag - literally - consisting mostly of metal utensils scavenged from the tiny kitchen along with a handful of coins of various denominations. He'd also found a few intact boots, leather belts and pouches that, even if he couldn't sell, could be used to repair his armor. The real prize, however, was a full cheese wheel he'd discovered in a corner of the larders along with a half-full bottle of wine that had not yet gone sour. If nothing else, it meant he didn't have to worry about going hungry. He carved out a wedge with his dagger and began chewing on it, occasionally stopping to take a swig from the bottle.

Just as Adden was starting to relax, a loud thump broke the silence.

Adden leapt to his feet, sword in hand. He stood perfectly still and listened. It was faint, but he could pick up the sound of someone or something in the courtyard. He flattened himself against the wall near the entrance and peered out.

At first he saw nothing. Then, in the faint, flickering light cast by the torch, a form appeared in the gloom. It had two legs and two arms and was roughly the size of a man; Adden could discern little else the dark and the mist. Then, the figure moved. It took few, halting steps towards the stables and then fell to its knees. Adden noted, with growing concern, that the intruder was quite large.

Heart pounding in his chest, Adden leaned back against the wall and weighed his options. He could wait for the interloper to come to him and ambush it. Risky, but if it came down to a fight it would give him an advantage. He could reveal himself and challenge the intruder, which might scare it off without a fight. He could also offer to share what he had scavenged, though he desperately hoped it would not come to that; what little he had found had barely made his little expedition worthwhile.

He could hear the intruder's footsteps now. Adden risked a quick peek around the door. What he saw shocked him to the core.

Though he initially mistook the intruder's lupine head for some kind of wolf-hide cloak, it dawned on him that this was not the case when it blinked. Though hunched, the monster was a good half-foot taller than Adden and likely twice his weight. Its arms were thick and muscular and its paw-like hands looked capable of crushing a man's skull. Its fierce yellow eyes glowed with a dull, inner light. Dense fur covered every inch of its body - mottled, charcoal gray fur that lightened to off-white along its stomach and chest. Speaking of its chest, the creature, somewhat incongruously, sported an impressive pair of fuzzy breasts, suggesting it was in fact a she. While it walked on two legs it stood on its toes rather than the balls of its feet and heels. Adden thought back to the footprints he'd seen in the mud outside the keep.

The creature gazed directly at Adden, who issued a curse and pressed himself back against the wall. He'd spotted a dark streak across its left flank. Given this and the monster's limping gait, it seemed that it was injured - badly. Emboldened, if not exactly heartened, by this notion, Adden made his decision. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped out of stables, sword at the ready.

The beast did not react. It kept its eyes trained on Adden even as he leveled his sword at it. The two just stood there for a time, neither willing to make the first move.

"Come on," hissed Adden, brandishing his sword.

The beast did not react. Its chest rose and fell as it breathed - somewhat laboriously.

Another few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Then, something in Adden snapped.

"Bollocks to this," he whispered.

Adden turned and ran. He didn't know why. If the beast had charged him he would have met it head on. But the way it had just stood there and stared at him...

Though nearly pitch dark now Adden could see the gatehouse in the distance. He made a beeline towards it, figuring, in his desperate, half-addled state, that he could somehow force his way through or climb up the gate and escape. It only occurred to him as he ran headlong into a group of armed men that he shouldn't have been able to see the gatehouse without another light source, i.e. the torch being carried by one of the newcomers.

"Drop thy weapon," demanded one of the men. He wielded a longsword and wore a red tabard over a chain shirt. The rest were similarly attired and armed, though a few carried halberds.

Stunned, Adden almost did as the man demanded but his fighter's instincts told him to keep a tight grip. He took a few steps back. He did not raise his blade but neither did he sheathe it.

"Who are you lot?" barked Adden. His gaze darted from man to man. He counted five - professional soldiers, all of them; he could tell by way they stood and the look in their eyes. If it came to a fight, he didn't stand a chance.

"Who are you, vagrant?" said another one of them. "This keep belongs to Cederlund and you do not wear their colors or coat."

"Neither do you," retorted Adden. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Our business does not concern thee. Be off!"

Suddenly, Adden remembered the creature. He glanced back over his shoulder. It had vanished.

"...Fine," said Adden, shivering as he turned back to the soldiers. "Let me gather my belongings."

"What were you looking at?" snapped one of the soldiers.

"Eh? My...my belongings," said Adden, gesturing at the stables. "I was thinking of retrieving my belongings."

"He's hiding something," growled one the soldiers - likely an officer given he wore a breastplate under his tabard. "Fley, Merca, seize him. Put some steel in his belly if he resists."

Two of the heavier-looking soldiers approached Adden, who raised his sword more or less on reflex. He could have probably taken one of them. Two, if he were fully armored and lucky. But he wasn't fully armored or lucky and three more could step in at any time if he gave them too much trouble.

"Put the butter knife down, hedge knight," said one of the soldiers, smirking evilly. "Behave and when this is over we might just let you keep your coc-"

A massive shape dropped from the gatehouse onto the soldier, forcing him to the ground. He screamed in agony as the wolf-like creature savaged his exposed neck. The soldier beside hi stepped back in surprise and terror only for the creature to turn, growl and hurl itself at him.

"The beast!" cried the officer. "Get her!"

The remaining two soldiers turned to charge the rampaging creature only to be met with Adden, who slammed into one of them with his shoulder, knocking the man to the dirt. The second soldier raised his sword just in time to parry Adden's wild spinning slash only to take a boot to the stomach, sending him to the ground as well, dropping the torch he'd been carrying. Adden had just enough time to plunge his sword into one of their throats before the officer charged him. A frantic sword duel erupted. The officer was not as fast as Adden but his breastplate deflected the few blows Adden managed to get through.

Behind them, the other soldier had managed to escape the creature's grasp - bloodied, but breathing. The two were circling each other, looking for an opening. Adden saw this out of the corner of his eye and had an idea. He reached back for his dagger with his free hand and, keeping his eyes on the officer, hurled it vaguely in the direction of the soldier. The dagger didn't hit him but the sound it made as it skidded along the ground was enough to distract him for a second, which was all that the beast needed. It rammed him like a bull and, once he was downed, started tearing and worrying at his throat. The man's gurgling screams echoed throughout the courtyard.

The remaining soldier staggered to his feet. Adden and the officer were still locked in a close duel. The soldier growled, lowered his halberd and hurried over to join them.

Adden staggered back against the gatehouse wall after parrying a particularly savage strike from the officer. Before Adden could react, the incoming soldier thrust his halberd's tip into his left thigh. Adden cried out and slumped against the wall, clutching his wounded side. Grinning toothily, the officer raised his blade to finish him.

Then, a large, furry foot stomped on the torch the soldier had dropped. The world went dark.

Adden heard the officer yell something only to be cut off. There were screams, curses, inhuman snarling, followed by some very worrisome, very visceral sounds. Then, silence.

Shaking from his brush with death, Adden slowly rose to his feet. He looked around in the darkness. Then, he saw the creature's eyes - twin candle flames suspended in the night.

"Um...I..." Adden gulped.

The creature blinked.

"...T-Thanks for your help?" said Adden.

He meant it as his last joke. He did not, however, expect what came next.

"You're welcome."

The creature's voice was deep, throaty, but also feminine.

"W-What?" said Adden, nonplused.

"You're welcome," repeated the beast.

Adden opened his mouth and then shut it.

"You can talk?" he gasped.

The beast didn't respond.

"Yes, yes, of course you can talk," he muttered, shaking his head. "Either that or I've gone mad."

"Come," said the beast with a sigh. "We'll talk in the stables."

Adden followed the beast, walking slowly so as to avoid tripping on the fallen soldiers - or what was left of them. Upon reaching the stables, Adden took a seat in a corner. The beast stood just outside the doorway as though wary of the light.

Several, tense seconds passed. Neither said anything.

"Who...what are you?" asked Adden at last.

"Sarah," intoned the beast. "I am what your kind call a vlkolak."

"...A what?"

"We have also been called skinwalkers and werwulfs," said Sarah patiently.

"Wait...werewolf? You're a werewolf?" gasped Adden.

"I suppose I am," said the creature calmly.

Adden considered this. He felt his hand reaching down for his sword.

"Foolish question, but...does your kind eat men?"

"Not as a habit," said Sarah dryly. "If we're hungry enough. But it is the same with man, yes?"

"I suppose," admitted Adden, wincing from a sudden pang in his thigh. He prayed the rot wouldn't set in. "I've seen what happens during sieges. But...who were those men?"

"Soldiers of the church," sneered Sarah. "They view my people as abominations - servants of evil - and hunt us without mercy. They caught me transforming one full moon night in a village to the north and wounded me with silver arrows. I ran into the woods but one amongst them was a skilled tracker. I could not evade them. I sought succor and rest within these walls." She paused. "Exactly who and what are you, brave ser?" she asked, somewhat sardonically.

"Ser Adden, of no lord or house, hedge knight," said Adden, performing a mocking flourish with his right hand. "Once of house Hawthorne until the Sinthinites sacked their hold and killed the entire bloodline. I managed to escape but was branded a coward for not dying with my lord and made outcast."

"What are you doing out here?" queried Sarah, cocking her head.

"Surviving. No house or lord will take me and mercenary work is hard to come by when you have a reputation as a coward. So when I can't find work as a sellsword I scavenge battlefields, abandoned places, sometimes even graveyards and tombs and sell what I find." He shrugged. "A dishonorable trade, I know, but I have nothing else."

"So, you were looting the fortress."

"Yes. A Cederlund sergeant told me they left some provisions behind in their haste to retreat when the Holy Seras swept through the Seven Eyes," explained Adden.

"Find much?"

"Some trinkets and leftover provender - barely worth the trip, let alone the five pence I paid the fart for the map," said Adden, shrugging.

Sarah was silent for a few seconds. Then, the werewolf turned, removed something from a pouch hanging from her side (Adden hadn't noticed it until now) and flung it to his feet.

"Is this worth anything?" she asked. "I found it under a floorboard in the commander's bedroom. It has a...strong scent."

Adden reached over to examine the object. It was a small cloth purse. He gave Sarah a skeptical look but opened it. It held a handful of small, black coarse pellets. Curious, Adden sniffed them. His eyes widened.

"Peppercorn," he breathed.

"What?"

"Peppercorn!" cried Adden, grinning madly. "By all gods above and below! Why would they leave this behind? Never mind! It's ours now!"

"What is peppercorn?"

"Truly? You don't know? It is a spice from beyond the seas. A single corn costs what a freeman makes in month. This is a small fortune!"

"Oh, well...good," said Sarah, somewhat taken aback by Adden's enthusiasm.

"That's a useful talent, beas-...uh, Sarah," said Adden, nodding at her. "And you are quite the fighter." He hesitated. "What is it...what do you do to make ends meet? Or do you live out in the forest like your four-legged brethren?"

"I can live in the wilds but prefer not to," said Sarah, lowering her head. "Without a pack it is...difficult. Among men I work as a serving wrench or help in the fields during harvest. I do not care for it but there is little else I can do."

Adden rubbed his stubbly chin.

"I have...a business proposition for you, werewolf. I think you'll find it far more attractive than serving ale or threshing wheat."