Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [132]
Stopping and whirling quickly, they crashed together as each sought to sink sharp teeth into the other’s neck. Their heads thrust like swords, and their chests pressed together. Back legs still churned the creatures forward, so their heads and forelegs gradually rose from the ground until they stood, as if wrestling, on hind legs alone.
Now the greater weight of Erian asserted itself, and Canthus tumbled backward. Somehow the moorhound managed to flip away, springing before his foe’s drooling jaws found their mark.
For a second the two animals regarded each other. Each curled his upper lip back to display many white, pointed teeth. And then they crashed together again.
This time Erian leaped upward, to come down upon the great moorhound and bear him to earth. Twisting, Canthus managed to deflect the wolf’s bite from his throat to his shoulder. Even so, he could not suppress a yelp of agony.
The pain gave him a momentary burst of adrenalin, and he sprang free from the heavy wolf. Even as he turned to face his opponent again, however, Canthus’s wounded shoulder failed to support his weight, and he stumbled.
The blood drove the werewolf into a frenzy, and he leaped forward with little caution. Canthus slipped to the side easily, and then repeated the evasion as Erian made several more frantic attacks. Soon the big wolf calmed himself, and closed in with more precise menace.
Noticing that Canthus was forced to treat the injured shoulder with care, the wolf continued to feint attacks, forcing the hound to leap out of the way again and again. The many evasions began to sap Canthus’s strength, and each time he leaped he felt pain lance his foreleg.
Finally, the unnatural wolf pressed his attack home. He charged, and twisted, and rushed to follow each of Canthus’s evasive maneuvers, forcing the dog into more and more desperate leaps and dodges.
And then the wounded shoulder collapsed, and Canthus tumbled to the ground. The spawn of the Beast dove upon him triumphantly before the hound could begin to twist free. The force of the heavy body drove the dog’s breath from his lungs.
Before he could inhale, the bloody fangs of the werewolf closed upon his throat.
*****
“We’ve got to try and break out!” announced Tristan, after he had finally caught Brigit’s attention and joined her in a desperate attempt to form a plan.
With the south wall breached, the town rapidly fell into the hands of the enemy. Ffolk of the militia fought bravely, defending each house, cottage, and shop, but the northmen could not be stopped. Unless they could reach the safety of the castle, the entire force, Tristan knew, faced annihilation.
Already the corner of the town held by the Ffolk was crowded with people. The prince could sense emotions rising to panic, and knew that they must try something, however desperate, immediately.
“I’ll gather the sisters,” agreed Brigit. She nodded to a knight, visor down, who rode up to her. “Pass any further orders through Aileen.”
The knight lifted her visor, and Tristan suppressed a gasp of shock at Aileen’s gaunt, pale visage. Still, she held her head high, and met his gaze evenly.
“Take word to Gavin at the north gate – tell him we’re going to attempt to reach the castle. The sisters will lead the way, and his company is to follow!”
Nodding, Aileen galloped up the street. The prince, with one more order to give, rode off to find the mayor. He first encountered Friar Nolan, leading a caravan of stretcher-bearers up the street. The cleric turned toward Tristan.
“The butchers!” he cried with a steely, murderous look upon his face. “They broke into the hospital – it was a massacre!”
The cleric looked very gravely at the prince. “These men are driven by something far more evil than their own nature.”
“I know,” replied the prince simply. Then he added, “We shall try to reach the castle. Bring your wounded into a column, and we’ll try to cover them.”
He rode on, watching the column form up behind the north gate, and he soon found Lord Mayor Dinsmore.
To Tristan’s surprise,