Run with the Wolves: Volume Three: The Beast

By T c TOMBS

In the mid-fifteenth century, the armies of Medinia, Skoland, and Varakov are marching to war. In an effort to prevent this looming conflict, Woodrow, the Pack leader of a group of lunar-afflicted humans and wolves, has just made a dangerous trek high into the Euralene Mountains to find an ancient monk known as the Oracle. He hopes the reclusive

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Jun 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949169447

T c TOMBS

T c TOMBS earned degrees from Trent University and Wilfrid Laurier University in Canada. Like many Canadians, he loves hockey and golf, and he has a passion for medieval history, folk lore, literature, film, and music. Terry and his wife, Sandra, live in the Greater Toronto Area in Ontario, Canada, where they have raised five daughters.

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Run with the Wolves

Volume Three: The Beast

T c Tombs

Copyright © 2018 by T c Tombs.

Cover design by Robert J Lewis

Web site designs by Shawn Ellsworth Media

Paperback: 978-1-949169-43-0     $19.99

eBook: 978-1-949169-44-7     $4.99

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Praise for

T c Tombs

and

Run with the Wolves

Volume One: The Pack

Beware of the full moon. This one is for all of the werewolf lovers!

Run with the Wolves by T c Tombs starts out strong with a story about Willie, the main character, who is left alone on a medieval farmstead to take care of the animals while the family is away. Willie is a happy hard working teenager who has been adopted by a farmer’s family. While they are away, he is viciously attacked by the Pack and his life is never the same again. The leader of the ‘Pack’ spares the injured Willie’s life and they take him back to their home. We follow Willie from one full moon cycle to the next wondering what will happen when he changes and how he will react. Does he remain sullen and angry because of his circumstances or push through his own mental chaos to find happiness? I enjoyed Tombs following the phases of the moon and his description of how the werewolves changed. It made me feel sympathy for these creatures who were half man and half wolf.

Tombs develops memorable characters that you walk away thinking about. He is detailed in his writing and knowledgeable about medieval history. Tombs developed strong sub-stories and characters and one of my favourites was Vinnie, the leader of a gang in the main port. The other favourites were the community of oddities who were all eclectic people joined together because of their differences.

We were teased with a few budding love stories and the book ended too abruptly for me. I wanted to glimpse what was happening with the other stories before it completely ended. The good thing is I was left wanting more. The author has two more books coming out. The next one is scheduled for this year. I guess we will just have to wait to see what happens.

Top Book Reviewers

A well-written and addictive first novel.

By combining several common dark fantasy elements and adding a few of his own creations, T c Tombs has avoided the biggest problem of werewolf stories: most of them are pretty much the same. Thus, The Pack, the first volume in his Run with the Wolves trilogy, is more interesting than the majority of novels in the genre.

Set in the 15th century, the tale commences as a large pack of two-legged and four-legged wolves attacks a farm in the kingdom of Medinia. Amazingly, Willie, a brave field hand, dispatches two of the giant wolves before he is brought down by a severe bite. Despite disagreements among the Packs’ individuals, Woodrow, the two-legged Pack leader, saves Willie and takes him back to his mountain cabin in the adjacent country of Varakov.

Gradually, readers learn about the lunar curse that inflicts both wolves and men in Varakov and which will inflict Willie because he has been bitten. The author also introduces: Lord Victor, the Varakovan king and shape-changing liege to whom the wolf pack owes its loyalty; the Oddities, a clan of outcasts with physical and philosophical abnormalities who live in the Sanctuary in the forest also populated by the Pack; a ruthless band of mercenary soldiers also faithful to King Victor; and the royalty of the two feuding nations that border Varakov, the previously mentioned Medinia and Skoland.

The Pack succeeds primarily because of Tombs’ talent for characterization. Readers will find empathy for those cursed by the moon as much as for their victims. And their interaction and dialogue are believable.

Blue Ink Reviews

In 15th-century Europe, war looms and monstrous wolves and other beasts roam the night.

The year is 1461, and neighbouring countries Skoland and Medinia seem to be brokering an uneasy truce after generations of war. Not all are happy about this development, however. Leaders and peasants on both sides have a difficult time trusting that there will be peace, especially after a series of brutal attacks in the countryside leave both sides suspecting the other.

Willie, a young serf, is dragged into the conflict directly when he attempts to save the animals on his farm from a pack of creatures with characteristics of both man and wolf, which possess inhuman strength and speed. He’s bitten but survives. As a result, the Pack takes him to nearby Varakov, where this group of wolf-men lives under the protection of the mysterious Lord Victor, who may not be completely human either. Willie hates the Pack and all associated with them, but he soon learns that everything is more complicated than he once believed; he must decide for himself whom he can trust and whom he cannot.

While this is mostly Willie’s tale, the rest of the cast is granted complex personalities, allowing the reader to decide, like Willie, who can be believed. Similarly, there is a wonderful exchange between fantasy and historical fiction here, as the countries of Skoland, Medinia and Varakov have their histories firmly based in the true medieval history of Europe, while leaving room for fantasy in the narratives of the Pack and their brethren.

Two books follow this one, and they each promise to add more to this excellent world.

A well-developed, tightly plotted fantasy; readers will want instalments two and three.

Kirkus Reviews

I highly recommend this book to anyone. The story is invigorating …

Run with the Wolves is a fantasy adventure piece of fiction set in the 15th century. Author T c Tombs takes the well-worn and told werewolf and breathes new life into it. He includes not only strong historical references but also refreshes the tried-and-true werewolf story with its darker fantasy elements as a brand-new narrative.

T c Tombs is a master of description and transporting the reader into the story. I found his visuals to be all encompassing and easy to imagine. He does a fantastic job at giving the characters distinct voices and personalities. I highly recommend this book to anyone. The story is invigorating, especially if you are looking for a new twist on the classical werewolf lore. Run with the Wolves is an interesting take on an old tale that kept me reading late into the night.

Pacific Book Review

Fly with the Wings of an Angel

Inspired by: Chris Rea’s (Best of) - Track # 4 ‘Fool’

Preface

Run with the Wolves is a fantasy/adventure epic set in the turbulent historical period of the fifteenth century. The trilogy consists of three volumes: The Pack, The Oracle, and The Beast.

This continuing saga was inspired by a number of musical works, including Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon and The Division Bell, as well as songs by Elton John and Bernie Taupin (my all-time favourite lyricist), Don Henley and the Eagles, The Moody Blues, Supertramp, Chris de Burgh, U2, Snow Patrol, James Blunt, Chris Rea, and many other gifted songwriters and performers. Their music has been my inspiration.

I would like to express thanks to my family and the many friends who lent me the use of their names for the many fictional characters found within the story. I hope you enjoy your namesakes and the roles they have to play, keeping in mind that it’s all in good fun. No family members or friends were actually injured or killed in the writing of this story.

I dedicate this volume to the next generation: Nathan, Olivia, Blake, Zachary, Zoe, and Parker. Follow your dreams. The world is at your front door. Go out and discover it.

Thanks once more to Lynn Walks for the lead. One doorway led to another.

Thanks to my friend Alan Trivett for lending an extra pair of eyes during the line edit phase.

A very special thank-you goes out to Robert J. Lewis for the inventive illustrations used for the covers of The Oracle and The Beast, and for the new cover version of The Pack. The storyboards he also created helped bring the project to life at the Universal Studios pitch fest in LA. You can view these on the website: www.tctombs.com

I would like to acknowledge the folks at S&S and especially everyone on the Toplink publishing team for their support and assistance in pulling this all together.

I would also like to thank David Bernardi for his editorial assistance and guidance, and for his consistent point of view. As always, any writing errors that remain are entirely my own.

Cycles of the Moon

The full moon for each month is given a name that represents the season or agricultural events of that month. These are some of the most common in use. The highlighted names are used throughout the three volumes of Run with the Wolves.

The Lunar Phases

For the purposes of this story:

The Full Moon Phase is considered to occur over a three-night period and includes the night prior to the full moon apex, the night of the full moon apex, and the night following the full moon apex.

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The Fifteenth Century

Events of Interest

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Run with the Wolves

Volume Three: The Beast

Preface

Cycles of the Moon

The Fifteenth Century

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Beast

Chapter 2: The Crystal

Chapter 3: The Caves-of-the-Prehistorics

Chapter 4: The Other Side

Chapter 5: The Euralene Gap

Chapter 6: New Allies

Chapter 7: The Gates to Varakov

Chapter 8: The War Begins

Chapter 9: The Foothills

Chapter 10: The Palisades

Chapter 11: The Gathering Storm

Chapter 12: The Mesa-of-the-Moon

Chapter 13: The Plains of Hell

Chapter 14: The Raising of an Army

Chapter 15: A Beacon of Light

Chapter 16: The Beasts of Varakov

Chapter 17: To the Future

Chapter 18: Epilogue

Author’s Note

Prologue

1461

In the summer of 1461, the kingdoms of Skoland and Medinia had been preparing to lay down their arms and put an end to years of warfare and strife. They’d sought a peaceful resolution to their dispute over the ownership of the fertile river valley lands that separated their two kingdoms, north and south.

To that end, a proposal had been made to hold a joint fall harvest festival and tournament, at which time negotiations would be held to reach a peace accord over the contended lands. To seal the accord, it had been further proposed that a marriage take place between the two royal houses. Prince Paulo of Skoland would wed Lady Hillary Michelle of Medinia.

In due course, following the demise of the two current lieges, King Verdonk and King Renaud, the wedded couple would then sit upon the thrones of both kingdoms. A new castled city would be constructed on the island where the Kolenko River broadened out into a small, shallow lake. It would serve as the new unified kingdom’s capital.

Alas, the end of their long war now saw preparations mounted for a new conflict. This war would be with the kingdom of Varakov on the far side of the Euralene Mountain range to the west. There was ample cause. It had begun when Lord Victor, the dark and mysterious king of Varakov, had a vision of a day when the two unified kingdoms would turn their attention westward and invade his realm and thus gain access to the great sea. In a pre-emptive action, the Varakovan king had dispatched two groups through the Euralene gap to disrupt their peace initiatives.

At Lord Victor’s decree, the foreign mercenary Barozzi had led his raiders in attacks on the farms of western Skoland, slaughtering, kidnapping, and then planting evidence that left the blame with Medinia. At the same time, the Varakovan king had dispatched the Pack, a mixed group of lunar-afflicted humans and wolves, to raid the livestock of the border farms of Medinia and instil fear of the Euralene Mountains and the demons thought to dwell there.

In pledged service to the king, Woodrow had reluctantly obeyed his liege. He’d led the Pack away from their isolated hunting grounds in the mountain forests and ventured into Medinia. During the third night transformation of the July full-moon cycle, known as the Thunder Moon, they’d raided the Smythes’ farm. Trying to defend the livestock, Willie, a young serf working on the farmstead had been badly bitten. Half dead, the youth had been brought back to Varakov He’d been cared for and healed by the Pack leader, but his life would be forever changed.

As the young Medinian adjusted to his new life in Varakov and tried to come to terms with the lunar sickness he now shared with the Pack, he’d found friends and unexpected support from a reclusive group called the Oddities. These refugees from society shared their Sanctuary in the Euralene Mountain forests with the Pack. Both these groups had been granted this safe haven in return for services that they rendered to Lord Victor.

Despite his initial animosity towards the Pack leader, Willie had begrudgingly begun learning from his new mentor. He was making discoveries about the new world he found himself in, as well as his own potential for growth within it. He’d even discovered that Woodrow and the members of the Pack, and those in the community of Oddities, shared much in common with him. They each suffered from afflictions not of their choosing—but they dealt with them with honour and dignity. There was much for him to admire in the integrity with which they chose to live their lives.

When the raids into Skoland and Medinia failed to set the two kingdoms back to a state of war, Lord Victor had once again dispatched Barozzi and his mercenaries, sending them to their fall-harvest celebration in the guise of caravan merchants. As the tournament and festival came to an end, the raiders had kidnapped the Medinian princess and the Skolish prince. They’d then devastated the pursuing knights of the two enraged kingdoms, with a deadly barrage from their matchlocks, the latest development in European weaponry.

Upon failing to negotiate a ransom for the release of the prince and princess, the two kings of Skoland and Medinia and their knight commanders are now seeking a means to break through the Varakovan-held fortress that guards the Euralene gap, separating east from west. Their initial attempts to assault the mountain fortress, however, have been repelled and many have died as a result.

As Lord Victor has delved further into the black arts with his coven of warlocks and their hags, his dark powers have grown. The Varakovan king appears intent on provoking a war between the three kingdoms despite the fact that his actions threaten to destroy Sanctuary and its residents. He has now enticed the ambitious Prince Paulo to become an ally in his quest for even further power.

Despite his oath of service, Woodrow has come to the difficult decision that Lord Victor and Prince Paulo must be stopped. In an act of defiance, he resigned his position as castle keeper to his liege. He also gave the king his promise to leave Varakov and his position as Pack leader in an attempt to spare the Pack and the Oddities of Sanctuary any reprisals.

With the help of the Medinian youth, Willie, and the Port Lupus gang leader, Vinnie, Woodrow arranged for the escape of Lady Hillary Michelle, the captive Medinian princess. As the Hunter’s full moon of October approached, he’d then set out on a dangerous solo trek high into the Euralene Mountains in an attempt to find the cavern of the reclusive monk known as the Oracle. Woodrow hopes to learn what the old monk’s ties are to the Varakovan king and whether the sage will assist him in finding a way to oppose the king’s growing ambitions.

Events transpire in his absence, however.

Outraged by these betrayals, Lord Victor has taken steps to punish those who have dared to defy him. The Medinian princess has been recaptured and Vinnie was shot down and is possibly dead, or dying. The next to suffer the Varakovan king’s wrath will be the community of the Oddities. Lord Victor has dispatched Barozzi and his mercenaries to lead the neighbouring Nordican barbarians against their Sanctuary. The Varakovan king is confident that Jagoda, the fierce chieftain of the northern clansmen, will relish teaching the Oddities a lesson that they won’t soon forget.

If any of them survive to learn from it.

Chapter 1

The Beast

October 20, 1461

The Euralene Mountains, Varakov

Woodrow’s long and arduous trek beneath the Hunter’s full moon of October had been rewarded when he’d found the Oracle’s cavern, or rather, when the recluse’s followers had found the ferocious-looking wolf-man and then led him to their master.

The Pack leader had been allowed his privacy when the onset of the dawn brought about his agonizing reversion following the second night of the full moon cycle and the transformation that so dramatically affected him and his kind. Afterwards, he’d bathed and changed out of his rags and donned his more suitable apparel. Somewhat refreshed, and certainly more presentable, he’d wandered deeper into the cavern to find his waiting host. The two men had shared a nourishing and welcome meal together before the Oracle had reluctantly begun relating his incredulous tale.

Woodrow had known that there was a connection between Lord Victor and the Oracle, but he’d been stunned to hear this wizened old sage in his unadorned, brown sackcloth robe claim to be Lord Victor’s younger brother, Peter. He’d listened in awe to his account of how the two brothers had fled the castle at the Mesa-of-the-Moon with the assistance of their ailing and dying mother, following the slaying of their father and his kin by the usurper, Lord Igor, in the year 1132. He’d then been told that the two young fugitives had hidden out, during those years so long past, in the very cavern where the two of them now sat sipping their diluted ale.

The thought that this frail looking monk and the vital Lord of Varakov could be brothers was unsettling. The ancient recluse had a face that was as weathered as the mountains themselves. If the old sage was to be believed, he and Victor were over three centuries old! Woodrow had suspected that his liege was long lived, perhaps, even as old as he was himself. Their types of afflictions were different, but each led to a longevity that was beyond the normal life span of people.

The Oracle had recounted how the two brothers had seen some sort of sky ship crash in these mountains during an intense winter storm that had raged during their exile. He’d told Woodrow that they’d searched for and found the strange craft the next spring, and had entered it, only to be confronted by the inert form of an alien Beast!

The old monk’s tale had been hard to believe, yet everything he’d heard from this beardless sage had the ring of truth to it. The tale that the Oracle had been imparting went a long way in explaining so much that Woodrow hadn’t understood previously. He was about to discover there was far more to learn about what happened back in those distant days and how it impacted on their present predicament with the dark Varakovan king.

* * * * *

The Oracle nodded his head slowly, as if he was reaffirming what his young eyes had been confronted with those many long years ago. He wondered what this solidly built man with the closely cropped goatee and greying black hair was thinking. He knew his story must sound incredulous, but then, Woodrow’s own long life story would raise a few sceptic eyebrows as well. Regardless, the old monk knew it was all too true. It was the inert form of a strange, alien creature that he’d seen long ago, just before falling unconscious, overwhelmed by the stifling green fog that had enveloped him and his brother.

When I awoke in the sky ship, the ancient sage said then, I was freezing cold. I was so stiff and sore that I couldn’t even move my limbs at first. It seemed to take forever just to get to my knees. My body wouldn’t respond to my brain’s commands. My head felt so heavy, I couldn’t even raise it up. I couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing for more than a moment. It was all I could do just to breathe.

The Oracle paused to take a sip of his watery brew, and then he offered his guest a wry smile.

It felt like my first bad hangover, he said. I couldn’t even estimate how long it was before my senses returned enough to remember where I was—where we were. I tried sitting up again, but I only made it part way. I started gagging violently, and then I puked up a bunch of green slime. That was a good thing, I guess. At least it cleared up the weight that was sitting on my chest, and I could finally get my breath again.

Thankfully, it was quite a bit brighter inside the craft now, the Oracle recalled, except for up near the ceiling, which was still obscured by that damned greenish fog that had spilled out. Throughout the rest of the chamber there was this faintly glowing light that hadn’t been there before. I could see it emanating from all the inner surfaces. It was inside the walls, inside the floor I was sitting on, even in all the tables and such. They all had this same faint, eerie green glow pulsing through them.

Not that there was much light coming from any one of them in particular, he added, but the output from all of them made for enough light that I could see by, which was a good thing, because the torches must have burned away while I was unconscious. I started looking around then, trying to get my brain to remember what had happened. That’s when I saw Victor lying there on the floor, where he must have fallen. I tried to get up and go to him, but I just couldn’t manage it. I ended up crawling over to him on my hands and knees. It seemed to take forever to reach him. As I got to his side, his chest started to heave as if he was trying to get air into his lungs. His face was really pale, with a sickly greenish tinge to it. He didn’t look at all well, but then I suppose I hadn’t stopped to consider what I might look like myself.

I pumped his chest and stomach a few times, then I rolled him over and he started puking as well. It was the same greenish slime—not very pretty, I might add, but it did the trick. He started sucking in air, and soon he started coming to, but he was still pale and befuddled.

We both just sat there for a long while, collecting our senses. I remember looking over at him and he gave me this weak, idiotic grin, as if this were an everyday way for us to wake up. I just shook my head at him, the Oracle said. He was once more the younger brother going through trials and tribulations at his big brother’s behest. I guess shaking my head must have loosened something in my brain, because that’s when it all came rushing back to me—what I’d seen just before I passed out. It was like a wave of terror washing over me. I could scarcely breathe again.

The Beast, the old monk confirmed. He nodded his head, accurately guessing what Woodrow was thinking. That’s when I looked up and saw it again, he added.

The creature was lying on the slab that protruded from the wall. Only now, the bubble that had covered him before was raised up, and he was laying there in the open—right there in plain sight. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed him sooner. Maybe it was because I could hardly hold my head up, or maybe it was because my brain just wasn’t working right yet. I don’t really know. If I hadn’t been so weak and confused, I would have gotten up and high-tailed it out of there as fast as my legs could carry me. I was so scared at that point that I might even have left Victor behind. As it was, I still couldn’t have managed it. Luckily for us, the Beast wasn’t moving either.

So I assure you, it wasn’t any type of bravery that kept us hanging around. That’s for certain, the old sage added. I was just sitting there staring up at it and shaking like a leaf in the wind. When Victor finally looked up and saw why I was so scared, he started shaking his head as if he was trying to get rid of some image that couldn’t possibly be real.

After what seemed like another eternity, our limbs—and our wits—started coming round, the Oracle explained. It was as if we were thawing out. It felt all prickly-like. We started rubbing our arms and legs to get some feeling back into them. Slowly, they got so where we were able to help each other get to our feet.

Neither one of us said anything, as I remember, he added. We were probably afraid our voices wouldn’t work right, or we’d wake the damn Beast up. We just stood there staring at it for a while. It surely wasn’t like any creature we’d ever seen before.

The reclusive monk took a much deeper sip from his mug this time. Woodrow joined him, all the while thinking that the experience his host was relating was something far beyond anything he’d ever encountered. Still, he had no reason to doubt its veracity.

The Beast was reptilian, for want of a better description, the old sage explained as he set his mug back down. It was a fearsome looking thing.

I know you’ve travelled pretty extensively, Woodrow, the Oracle added after a brief pause. Have you ever come across the creature that they call the crocodile?

Twice, his guest confirmed. I saw some while I was in India, and then a second time, when I travelled to Egypt in the north of Africa. They’re pretty nasty brutes when they get big.

Indeed, the Oracle confirmed. Well, the Beast wasn’t exactly the same as them, but that’s what its skin was like. It was hard and scaly—like overlapping plates of armour. Only its body shape was more like ours—except it was much bigger and heavier. He was about eight feet long, with thick legs and large feet. His arms and hands were bigger, too. I was pretty sure that he was built to stand upright, just like we do.

"I say he, the sage added, because the appendage lying between its legs was definitely male, and somewhat of the apportionment of another animal you may have encountered—the rhinoceros."

The Oracle chuckled briefly at the thought, but then quickly sobered.

Sorry … I digress. It’s really not the least bit amusing. The story that I’m relating was terrifying at the time—and it still is, even in the mere recollecting of it. As I was saying, the Beast was lying there face upwards. It was completely naked except for a shimmering black cape, upon which it lay. The top end of it was fastened somehow to the creature’s neck.

The portion of the cape that I could see was draped over the Beast’s one shoulder. I remember how it shimmered in the eerie glow that lit the interior of the ship. It looked like it was made from some black quicksilver rather than silk or some other fabric, he explained. I’d never seen anything quite like it.

Somewhere in the back of Woodrow’s brain, something clicked then. He sensed that the ever present cape that Lord Victor wore was connected to this information. It was a most peculiar appearing garment that he’d long puzzled over the make of, but it was also something Victor would never talk about.

The Beast’s features were fierce, the Oracle repeated. He painted a vivid picture for his guest. It had large pointed ears that lay flat on the sides of its head like ours do, only the head was immense, much larger than a human’s. Its eyes were closed, but they were deeply set, under a thick brow that was like a hard ridge of skeleton bone. Its mouth was closed too, but from the jaw size, you could tell that it could open up a lot wider than ours ever could. I tried not to think about the size of the teeth that were likely inside of it.

That was about when I started tugging on Victor’s sleeve to let him know that I thought we should get the hell out of there, the Oracle said. He nodded his head up and down that he agreed and we backed away from the slab and then started looking around for our swords. They were right where we’d dropped them, alongside the spent torches. We no longer had need of those with the glow inside the ship, but having our blades brought us some comfort, however misplaced that notion turned out to be.

We were just starting to leave, the old sage recounted then, when suddenly, the Beast started going into convulsions. Its chest heaved so hard that its back arched right up off the slab that it was laying on. We could hear bones cracking, or maybe it was its scales shifting—I wasn’t really sure. It scared the hell out of us, though. I jumped way back, but Victor tripped over his own feet and fell. The Beast was jerking around all over the place by that point. During its convulsions, it suddenly pitched towards the side and rolled off the slab and fell to the floor, too.

Everything had been so surreal up to that point—like it was all a dream, the Oracle explained. But then Victor started screaming, and it was as if the spell I was under was broken. Only it was no dream. It was a bloody nightmare! Victor was trapped under the body of the Beast, and the damn thing was waking up—just like we did!

Even all these many years later, Woodrow could hear the panic in the old monk’s voice that he’d felt at the time. Since the Oracle and Victor were both alive today, it was obvious that both the young brothers had survived their ordeal with the alien creature. Nevertheless, it was apparent that the experience had left deep emotional scars within the old monk. He was about to learn that it had left scars in more than one sense.

I tugged and tugged on Victor’s arm, the Oracle said, trying to help pull him out from under the creature’s weight. He finally got clear and I was helping him get to his feet again, when we heard a god-awful hissing coming from behind him.

The Beast was up on its hands and knees now. Its eyes sort of rolled open and fixed on us. Its tongue was flicking in and out, the same way a snake’s tongue does. It was forked the same way too. Only it was much thicker and longer.

It was a horrid thing to see, the old sage recollected. It looked as if it was licking its lips in anticipation of its next meal. The next we knew, it lunged forward with its mouth agape and I caught a glimpse of its fangs just before they sank into Victor’s leg. They were wicked looking, curved things, about three or four inches long.

Victor let out a fearsome scream, he said. He’d lost his sword getting out from under the creature and he had nothing to defend himself with. He was beating at its head with his fists, but to no avail. The Beast’s eyes simply rolled shut again. It had Victor’s leg firmly in its mouth and it wouldn’t budge.

Looking back on it much later, he said, I concluded that the creature was still in the same drugged condition that we’d been in when we first awoke, because it didn’t press its advantage. It was so much bigger than we were, but instead of attacking us, it just clamped on to Victor’s leg with its mouth. If it had started using the claws on its feet, or its hands, it could have easily ripped us apart. They looked as long and sharp as any mountain lions, or even those great tigers you might have seen while you were in India.

The Oracle paused to reach out for his mug and to take another short sip of his watery brew. Woodrow left his own mug sitting there, sensing the tale was reaching its critical point.

I started hacking and slashing at the creature with my sword—but to no avail, the wizened old monk said next. My blade just bounced off its armoured hide. I couldn’t manage to penetrate its scaly skin, no matter how hard I swung the blade. Not even when I tried to run it through with the point. It was as if the Beast was a creation straight from hell, or was even the devil himself!

I didn’t know what else to do, the sage admitted. By this time, Victor was as pale as a ghost and bleeding profusely from his leg wounds. I could see that he was going into shock. His eyes were already glassed over. I slumped down to the floor in defeat. I was helpless. I couldn’t think of any way to free him—but that’s when I felt the family cross that mother had given me. It bumped against my chest when I dropped to the floor. I pulled it out from beneath my shirt and I started muttering every prayer I’d ever heard.

That didn’t do much good, either, he admitted. I guess God was too busy at the moment—because he didn’t seem to be saving the day with any of those miracles that I was praying and begging him for. Then, simply out of frustration, I suppose, I got back to my feet again, and I pulled the chain over my head. Cursing God himself, I used it to swing the cross at the Beast as hard as I could manage. It’s a pretty heavy object, as you’ve seen, the old sage added, but still, I never really expected it to accomplish anything, since my sword had no effect on the Beast at all.

Maybe that’s when God did send us a miracle, or perhaps in light of the passage of time, it hasn’t proven to be—I don’t really know now, the old monk mused. In any event, when the cross landed, it struck the Beast at the base of its neck. Before I could pull it back for another blow, I could see the scales there start to blister. There were even wisps of smoke.

That got the Beast’s attention, all right, he added as he let loose a derisive snort. Woke him right back up, it did. Its eyes rolled wide open again, and it let go of its hold on Victor. Then it screamed out the most horrible screech my ears had ever heard before.

The Beast jerked away from us and the cross fell off, but I could clearly see where it had burned the creature’s neck, the Oracle said. I don’t know where I got the courage or even what possessed me, but I grabbed up the family cross and charged after him. I leapt up onto its back, put one arm around its neck, and pressed the cross against the back of its head with the other.

The Beast went wild then. The pain must have been overwhelming for him. It struggled to its feet, screeching over and over again. It was staggering all around the room as it tried to shake me off its back, but I think it was still pretty drugged up from that green fog concoction.

Just before it succeeded in flinging me away, I managed to slip the chain over its head. It was a tight fit, he said, but once it was on him, the Beast was a goner. The cross flipped to his front side and it literally burned its way through his throat. It probably took about five minutes for him to die, but it seemed like it was forever, the Oracle said in a subdued voice. It wasn’t a very pretty sight—or a very pleasant smell, for that matter.

Just before the Beast fell over dead, its mouth opened wide and its tongue slid out. It was all black and smoking. No sound came out of him then, he said. I think its vocal chords must have melted away, but I could see the fangs in its mouth much more clearly. They were four wickedly curved things, two on the top and two on the bottom. I could see blood dripping off them. That’s when I remembered that Victor had felt their cruel bite, and that it had to be his blood that was dripping from them.

At this point, my brother was a mess, the Oracle said with a deep sigh. He was moaning in pain and he was even paler than he was before. I checked his leg and found the punctures, but they looked to be sealing over. There wasn’t any more blood coming out of them, at least. So, I tore off a sleeve from my shirt and wrapped his leg with it, just in case he started to bleed again. Then I went back over to the Beast. I knew it was dead, but I still gave it a couple of testing kicks, just to be sure it wasn’t going to come back to life.

The old sage smiled ruefully at this memory.

When it didn’t move, I pulled the cross back off over its head as fast as I could, and then backed away again. By then, I’d decided it was more than time to get the hell out of there. Thankfully, Victor was still conscious enough to stumble along, leaning on me. I had the silver cross clutched in my other hand just in case we ran into any more trouble. I guess that I figured God would protect us again if need be.

Just before we reached the aft end, however, our little adventure took another side road, you might say, the Oracle said. A grim look came over his face then. In retrospect, I’m not very proud of it—but it sure seemed damned necessary at the time.

He paused for a moment, as if preparing himself to admit to something that he’d just as soon not have to recollect. It was an ancient memory, but it was one that still haunted him and scarred his subconscious.

I was concentrating on dragging Victor along and on avoiding the obstacles in our way, the old sage explained. Just as we approached the portal, we saw them. There were two more of the creatures!

The old recluse held up a hand when he saw the look of concern come over his guest’s face.

Fortunately, these ones weren’t yet awake, he said. They were laid out on the same sort of slabs as the first Beast had been, and their bubble coverings were up now, too. These two slabs were back nearer the aft section. We gave them a wide berth, just in case they started waking up, too.

I handed the cross to Victor, he added, and told him to keep his eyes on them while I climbed up and tried to look through the portal into the upper aft of the ship. It wasn’t easy, because the portal was almost all covered over by the green fog. It seemed to be slowly flowing that way and out into the aft section.

It occurred to me that the vapours were probably venting out through the gashes in the rear compartment, to the outside air. It was probably due to the cant of the sky ship when we first found it, come to think of it, the old sage recollected. Anyways, I remember taking a deep breath and holding it while I took a quick look over the rim of the portal. The fog was even thicker inside the next compartment, but at least it was well up off the floor. I figured we could escape that way, if we kept low and we did it in stages.

The Oracle reached for his mug again and took another small sip and then grimaced, but not from the taste of his beverage.

Instinctively, I suppose, I knew that we had to avoid breathing in any more of that damn green fog. I’d worked it out by then that the fog was a sleeping agent of some kind. That’s why it knocked my brother and me out the way it did. It also explained why these Beasts were fast asleep in the first place. Later on I would find out just how right I was about that, but I’ll get to that soon enough.

At the time, when I got back down, I explained it as best I could to Victor. I told him that after we climbed through the portal, we’d have to crawl along the floor under the fumes, or we’d be put to sleep again. I told him when we got below the gash we’d have to hold our breath until we’d climbed out.

Victor wasn’t in exactly the best of shape, the Oracle reminded his guest, so I thought I’d tie him off to the rope, and then I’d go up first. That way, once I got up, I could help pull him up as he tried to climb.

Only Victor didn’t want to go yet, he added. He kept shaking his head and mumbling ‘no’. He made me wait there while he tried to explain himself.

You have to k-k-kill them, too, he stammered, or they’ll be after us when they wake up. He said that I should use the silver cross, and then he held it out for me to take back.

There was a long pause as the Oracle gathered himself. His aged hands were bloodless as he clasped his mug in an attempt to keep his composure.

I remember how much I just wanted to get the hell out of there, the old sage finally murmured as he reflected on that day. But Victor kept on mumbling about them being murderous creatures from hell—to use the cross and send them back there—and so finally, I did it.

I went towards them, he said, holding that cross out before me as if it were the very wrath of our Lord God above, just in case they made a sudden move. When I got closer, I realized that they weren’t as large as the first Beast had been. The one to my right was a bit bigger than a grown man, six and a half feet or so. It was a female—with the appropriate body parts. The other one was male, but it was only about four feet tall.

Nevertheless, they both had that same hard, armour-like scaling for skin, the sage added, and the same fearsome mouths.

The Oracle paused for another sip of his watered down brew, and then he looked up and stared directly at his guest.

I killed the largest one first, the female. It seemed the practical thing to do at the time, he stated in a self-mocking tone.

Woodrow noticed the visible twitch that flickered in the weathered skin around the old monk’s eyes as he confessed this.

I killed her in pretty much the same way as the first Beast, he explained. His voice was a dull monotone now. I wrapped the chain around its neck. I pressed the cross against its throat and I stepped back and watched while it burned through.

The old sage looked as if he was going to pause for another drink, but instead he lowered his mug and spoke again.

This one never reacted, he said quietly. It never woke up and attacked, like the first one did. It just lay there as the cross burned through its under scales.

The old monk spoke this last part so softly that Woodrow could barely hear him, but it was evident that the man still harboured regrets about that moment that took place so long ago.

It made the same awful stench though, the Oracle added. His voice was a little louder and clearer now.

The memory must have stirred up the long-forgotten odour that was buried somewhere deep in his senses. It caused him to pause for a moment, almost as if he smelled it anew.

Their child—and I think by this point that I knew it for what it was—it was next. I pulled the cross and chain from the ruined neck of the female—from the mother—and then I killed her offspring, as well.

You think that it was a family? Woodrow asked.

I came to that conclusion in the back of my mind, yes, the Oracle replied. It was this admission, and perhaps his personally perceived guilt in the matter, that obviously still haunted him.

Many, many years later, I came to know it for a certainty, the old sage added.

He took a much longer drink of the watered-down brew this time.

The male child-beast didn’t die in its sleep, as the mother had, he said. I guess I wasn’t so lucky this time. He never made a sound, but as the cross was burning through its throat, his eyes rolled open. I swear that I could see a look of utter terror in them, just before he died.

Those are the eyes I still see, when I have nightmares, the Oracle confessed. I tell myself that these creatures weren’t of this world and that they were probably hostile and dangerous, but I don’t know that for sure. It still bothers me that we—that I—may have destroyed an innocent family. Maybe I killed them, simply because of the strangeness of the circumstances.

Even that first male Beast, perhaps, he added. He may only have thought he was defending himself and his family when he started to waken and saw us. I just don’t know."

What happened after that Peter? Woodrow asked gently. He was attempting to move the old monk onwards from these dark thoughts.

After I retrieved the cross from my latest victim, I took what was left of my shirt off and wrapped the cross in it. Then I stuffed it in my pants. I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. And you’re right to try move me along with the story, the Oracle said with a last rueful sigh. These days, I seem to have a tendency to dwell on issues of remorse. None of that changes what happened afterwards, or where we find ourselves today. I only tell you all this to give you a clearer understanding of how our current state of affairs came about.

It wasn’t easy for him, but Victor managed the climb up over the portal with my help, the Oracle said. From there, we dropped down to the floor and crawled through a lot of mucky water until we were underneath the big gash where our rope hung down. I remember thinking at the time that it was strange there was so much water and debris inside the craft.

From that point, I managed to hold my breath long enough to climb up and get outside. The fresh air out there helped to revive me further. I remember sucking in great lungfuls of it when I got out—one deep breath after another. It was as though my body needed to purge itself of whatever fumes were left in me.

He paused for a moment to take a deep breath into his ancient lungs, as if illustrating how it felt to suck in the welcome air back then.

I started to help pull Victor up next, taking care to stay away from the fumes that were seeping out of the gash. He was coming along fine, but then suddenly he started screaming. I pulled and pulled as hard as I could, but it was really difficult to haul him out. He was jerking around all over the place.

Victor was coughing and convulsing by the time he came up through gash, the old sage added. I grabbed him and started pulling him away from the fumes, but I lost my footing and we ended up tumbling down the outside of the craft. We hit the ground pretty hard, and we just lay there like that for the longest time, coughing and sucking in the fresh air.

Then I heard Victor moaning, the Oracle stated with a forlorn look. I looked over and—I saw it on him.

The cape, his guest ventured.

Right you are, the cape, the ancient recluse confirmed. "I knew you were an astute fellow, Woodrow. Yes, it was the same shimmering black cape that you are so familiar with. It was now attached around Victor’s neck like a