Return of the Ancients

Chapter 45 There Will Be No Saviours

The first wave of the far Wolfen burst through the trees into a large clearing. They skidded to a halt, their eyes wideneing first in disbelief, and then in triumph.

Several Wolfen elite stood waiting for them, their hands tight on their sword hilts, with bodies nobly erect, and their demeanour calm. The banners of Grimvaldr fluttered in a breeze beside them.

A roar went up from the travelling warriors, who were now piling up in the expansive clearing, dozens deep, each craning over the other, to see the armoured warriors they would soon be joining.

‘Grimvaldr comes to meet us. Long live the king!’ A roar went up and they rushed forward. It was only when they were within a dozen paces of the motionless warriors did they see them for what they were — caricatures of living beings. Their mouths were sewn shut, and blood leaked from under armour where they had been pierced a hundred times. In addition, the elite warriors had been lashed upright, with even their necks bound to hidden stakes, giving them a proud posture.

The far Wolfen, confused, slowed, but only for a second as a screech tore through the air, followed by the hiss of hundreds upon hundreds of arrows in flight.

By the time a warning was roared, hundreds of bodies lay twitching on the grass. The same scene was repeated along a dozen slopes.

There would be no far Wolfen joining the battle this day.