Chapter 16
Helen and the Devil
"Munin flew above the sky and tried to catch a star.
But Jatar said she shoudn't since it was very far.
Munin asked how Jatar knew if she had never tried.
Jatar said that those who tried had failed or even died.
Munin flew out past the sky where stars were said to roam.
And she was gone so long, they thought she never would come home.
But in the end, back Munin came, though with no star to show.
But even though she had no star, the truth was cause to go."
Redwing Tribe Nursery Rhyme
"Once a man has died inside,
No force on earth can oppose him."
Jerome Clan Maxim
Five years ago...
July 14th, 2115
I was born in the prison camp on the day my mother passed away. I am told by my uncle that my father was mad with grief and even blamed me for the loss of his wife. My uncle tells me not to think ill of my father. My uncle says that most people are bound by circumstance, and only the knights can rise above their current circumstances. My uncle says that the knights step into a better future, and then bring that future back to the present for the good of the clan. And so I will become a knight, with the pistols and the boar spears and the leather breast plates, for I have lived all of my thirteen years in a prison camp. And when I bear my children, I wish them to breath the free air of the mountains while I nurse them.
My name is Helen, and my uncle says that I should seek to marry a knight. My uncle says that women do not create the future, they nourish the present like a child. The Winter Wolves have killed of the clan's knights. So unless somebody takes their mantle, my people have no future. My father was a huntsman; not a knight by any stretch, but respected amongst the survivors in this camp. My uncle is a dream speaker, the secret guides of the clan and the knights. The Winter Wolves knew of the knights and killed them in battle or , more often, executed them from afar with high powered rifles. The Winter Wolves did not know of the dream speakers. And so our source of wisdom survives.
But without the knights, my clan has lost the hands with which we act. We have our eyes, but we lack our hands. It is my goal to become the hands of my people and grip the spear that kills the wolves that hold us here.
* * *
Dolf was thirteen now and wore a devil mask. The mask was solid steel, carved and pounded to look like the shimmering blue face of Lucifer. It had long curling horns that wrapped around Dolf's ears and a leering fanged smile with breathing holes punched out of the spaces between the teeth. It attached snugly to his war helmet, but could be worn without the helm. When he wore the mask around Fort Winterheart, Dolf would often wear the mask perched upon the top of his head like a cap.
His father had named Dolf, which meant 'wolf', to make a point of Dolf's lineage. Dolf didn't care about the point his father was making, but liked the name. He also liked the obvious association, which scared people. Certain names would always be associated with savagery and power. Dolf felt that one might as well make use of that advantage. A man could succeed by being clever, by being charming, or by being powerful. Dolf's father preferred to be clever and charming. Dolf wished to be clever and powerful.
Dolf wasn't impressed or concerned by father's dreams of an empire. Dolf still wished to succeed his father as leader of the Winter Wolves. But he has learned some things from his brother Cooper. Cooper had taught Dolf failure. Cooper had also taught Dolf what it was like to be in battle. Dolf was no longer a little boy, puberty had hit and that as well as his training had turned him into a lean densely muscled young man whose hunger was expressed him every sinew of his body.
Dolf wanted a viking funeral- to live a grand and violent life and die glorious in battle at the head of an army. He wanted to die with his brother, to prove to Cooper that things had changed. To prove to Cooper that he was the better of them. That would be enough.
He worked out every day, mostly by fighting until he could fight no more. He didn't drink or do drugs. Alex of 'A Clockwork Orange' may have done these things but Dolf had more than one mentor. He also found virtue in the words of Lycurgus: the founder of Sparta.
Dolf had his gang, three guys and two girls who would all fight and die for Dolf. They were all older than him and been floundering in the training pits when Dolf entered the pits. They would have died in the Winter Wolf Training Pits- as many children did- if not for Dolf. The five had been weak, but Dolf had seen potential.
He had seen people he could shape and mold. He had been small when he was younger, and had seen that weakness can breed strength. And so he taught them. He taught them that the battle does not go to the strong- they were not the strongest. Instead, he taught them that the battle goes to the most committed, the best prepared, and the most brutal. These five were monsters now, but they were his monsters. They needed Dolf's guidance to survive. Dolf liked their relationship that way. Dolf's Dad wanted to rule the world. Dolf just wanted to rule his own life.
His five had names before Dolf took them. Now they were his five, and he named them accordingly.
Dolf had three pastimes: fighting and reading and researching how people broke.
Dolf had a vicious knife that he called 'The Christmas Tree'. The blade had been filed into four inverted V's that hooked flesh and tore it out when the blade was pulled from a wound.
Dolf liked to perform handstand push ups as a part of his regular workout. He didn't do the push ups for any fitness benefit, but to intimidate people watching him.
Dolf was a rapist at thirteen, something in which he took pride. Dolf only enjoyed sex if it was a battle. He only assaulted women that he knew would be able to fight back- the warriors of enemy tribes were popular. He enjoyed the real danger involved. He had been stabbed during such sexual assaults no less than five times, and made no attempt to hide the scars. He had also raped all five members of his gang. Dolf was heterosexual, but he felt rape was an effective way to establish dominance.
Dolf had considered being a vegetarian. Hitler had been one after all, but Dolf had rejected the practice as unworkable given his circumstances. Eating puppies was too useful an intimidation tactic to give up, besides that he had grown to like the taste of puppy meat. It was tender.
The one chink in Dolf's perfection- as he saw it- was his concern for his mother. He should love nothing, should care for nothing but the fight. But he cared for his mother. He had told himself that he should rape her to cleanse himself of concern for her, but he couldn't. His weakness shamed him and Dolf didn't talk to his mother as a result. He could fully not become the monster he longed to be, as long as he cared for somebody as truly broken as his mother Rose. He knew her story. Dolf knew that she had been a truly promising warrior and stateswoman when Dolf's father- Maxwell- had claimed her. Dolf knew that Maxwell had broken her will slowly, painfully and completely. Dolf told himself that he should respect his father's achievement, but he couldn't. He loved his mother and hated Maxwell for the fear his father had placed in his mother's eyes. He hated Cooper as well. His mother talked about Cooper, her kidnapped eldest son, which such pride. She was actually glad to learn that the Redwing Tribe had raised Cooper. Dolf had read a great deal, and knew that it was typical for the younger son to resent the elder son for the respect parents gave to that elder son. This didn't temper Dolf's jealousy and only fed Dolf's hatred of Cooper.
Cooper was the one his mother loved. Cooper was the only foe he hadn't been able to break. Cooper was the one his father still wanted as successor. Cooper was the boy rebel who was embarrassing the Winter Wolves at every turn. Of, course Pike was there as well, but it was Cooper that Dolf hated- the so called Winter Hawk. One might as well call him Robin Hood and be done with it.
Dolf hated Cooper.
He was sitting in the square reading 'A Clockwork Orange' when his father- Maxwell- found him that day.
"Dolf, get your nose out of that book."
"Don't be a baboochka, Dad. This book is a droog. It's a trusted friend, an amigo."
Dolf spoke like the characters in the novel and saw virtue in their savagery. He sought to emulate them, but temper their savagery with the theories of Lycurgus- founder of Sparta.
"I know what that means, boy. I've read the book as well. You should be reading Xenophon or Clausewitz or Machiavelli."
"Machiavelli is real horroshow Dad, but Clausewitz is an outdated baboochka. I've read them all, and I think I pony the important stuff enough to walk the walk."
"Then 'pony' this: I need your little band of monsters to head out a re-education camp on the western border."
"That is one boring rabbit you're throwing me. Give me something with a little ultra-violent."
Dolf saw his father tense at the shoulders, ready to slap Dolf, and then relax. Dolf smiled. Maxwell had beaten Dolf senseless after Cooper and Pike had escaped. Dolf had sworn that it would never happen again. Now Dolf could see that he had succeeded. His father was afraid of him.
"Listen to me. I am sending you there, because your brothers will be there."
Dolf put down the book.
"And you're just real sammy and want to give me that present 'cause you're my droog? What's the catch? I know you ain't telling me the whole raskazz."
"The catch is that we know where they are going to be, but we don't know when. You could be waiting for months. They have deliberately allowed a map of our territory to be found. It marks five targets. This camp is one of the those targets. They have done this before, they have always hit every target the let us know about. They are mocking us."
"So why not just round up all your millicents and razz-boys and stuff these places with enough pooschkas to level the land around them. Why me, if it's so embarrassing?"
"Two reasons. First, they know that Seattle has sent out raiding parties against The Vancouver Territories and Whistler County. They know that I must defend Whistler. This requires a significant show of force, Lilith does not back down lightly. Second. I do not wish the world to see me lock down five obscure holdings with my best men when faced with my own errant children. You and yours are monsters, good effective monsters. I trust you will be able to follow your brothers after they make their raid. I do not expect you to be able to prevent the raid, just that you capture them after that."
"Why should I do that babooshka? You want like Cooper's Hawk to be king and give him all your bugatties. Bratty don't want to be your kid, don't want to be your banda- I do. Why so gloopy anxious to get him back? He ain't all boohoohoo that you're not around. Besides, they ain't got the yarbles to run this place, not like I do."
Dolf didn't even see his father flex, before the blow struck Dolf- closed fisted in the jaw- and sent the youth flying off the stone bench he had been sitting on.
"Do not confuse my tolerance of your methods, with weakness boy. You are a monster, yes. You are a good effective monster, yes. I am proud of you for these things. You are an excellent sergeant, and an excellent field leader. You are not a politician, you are not a king, you do not have the vision to lead anything larger than a war party. You will do this because I told you to. I will have all my sons with you. All of you belong to me. Then, when I have finished with my plans and my conquests, I will decide which of you will succeed me. It will not be you, or Pike, or Hawk. It will be whoever is the leader that the Winter Wolves need. Do you understand?"
Dolf stood up, picking his devil mask on the cobble stones. "I pony mister razz man. I pony real good."
* * *
Pike, Cooper and Malika sat around a makeshift table in an abandoned barn near Hundred-Mile House.
Pike was twenty-two years old now, and had filled out into a strong muscular warrior. He dressed in typical Redwing warrior attire- brigandine and pants with lace up moccasins. He had let his hair grow out since they left the comforts of the village, and now boasted a long wild mane of hair. He still kept his face clean shaven, and kept a straight razor in a case on his belt for that purpose amongst others.
"So, which one first?" Pike asked, looking at the stolen map of Winter Wolf territory laid out on the table between the three young warriors.
Malika studied the map for a long time. She was eighteen now and retained a slim lean build as she matured. Malika had let her hair grow out as well, keeping them in carefully maintained corn rows. To retain this look, she recruited Cooper's assistance. Unlike Pike, Malika was not dressed like a Redwing warrior. She had not taken the warrior test when they left and did not have the brigandine. Malika instead wore a handmade shirt of lammellar style leather scales. Beneath that she had taken to wearing a black leather kilt she had bartered for several years ago, which had become her summer wear.
Finally settling on a position, Malika pointed to a point far to the west they had circled. "The Pass, Roger's Pass. They can't reinforce it in time. We can move faster than any military unit of decent size, and I don't like the idea of charging people money to walk from one place to another."
Pike nodded, "I can work with that."
Cooper shook his head, "It's too easy. We'll get there and there won't be any challenge, nothing to feed the legend, nothing to weaken the WinterWolves ' image. We don't hit them where they are weak. it serves no purpose anymore, we've been doing that for five years. We have to start hitting them where they're strong, to prove they aren't."
Pike shrugged, "All right Sun-Tzu, where do we strike first?"
Cooper pointed to a small mark on the western edge, but much closer than all of the other markings, "We liberate the prison camp. We make a statement. They cannot hold what they have conquered. Nobody should be imprisoned by our father. We show every tribe not yet on side with Uncle Redwing, that this war can be won, and that it isn't luck the Redwing tribe is still free."
Malika shook her head, "You're cute Coop, but you better have a plan. Because we told them where we were going to hit, and that camp is the closest. It will be the best protected."
Cooper leaned forward, disturbing the large wolfhound beside him and tapped the black top hat he was wearing, causing the raven bones tucked behind the ribbon to shift a little, "I've been talking to the spirits of every Winter Wolf we've killed. You'd better believe I have a plan."
No comments:
Post a Comment