A second wave of howls reached them, accompanied by many faster yips. Darius listened, then shook his head as if snapping out of a daze.
“Spine is still intact,” he said, staring hard to the north. “But we won’t be if any spot us. They’ll devour even our bones, Jerico. Lead on if you must. No paladin of Ashhur will go where a paladin of Karak will not.”
Jerico took point, almost wishing Darius had objected more strongly. Part of him wanted to get as far away from that fearful gathering as possible. From what he could tell, they were somewhere between the dips of the hills, but where, he did not know. Sound could do strange things when traveling across the plains. The two ran on, their idle chatter ended, their breathing muffled. The rattle of their armor suddenly seemed dangerous and unnecessary. Leather armor, thought Jerico. Yet another reason to wear that instead of this damn plate.
They slowed as they approached a tall hill, and from the other side they heard constant shouts and growls. The wolf-men spoke the tongue of humans, as all creatures other than the orcs of the Wedge did. Ever since their creation and subsequent use in the Gods’ War, the wolves had changed it the least, while the other races had added strange accents to fit their tongues. Jerico remembered studying each race during his time in the Citadel, and now he wished he’d paid ten times more attention to those studies. What could the wolf-men possibly be doing raising such a ruckus?
“Stay low,” Darius said as they neared the hill. “The wind favors us, so thank Karak for that.”
“Karak’s lord of the air?”
“And the dirt. Now shut up and follow me.”
Darius climbed on his hands and knees, and Jerico followed. Near the very top they began crawling on their stomachs, and at the summit, they peered over to witness the gathering of wolf-men. Jerico’s jaw dropped at the number. There were at least two hundred, and they formed a great circle around a massive pile of rock that, he guessed, was sacred to them in some way. At first he thought them one group, but then he saw they were sectioned into two. On the left was the larger, nearly a hundred and fifty, while on the right was a group a third that size.
“Their leaders,” Darius whispered as he pointed. Jerico followed his gaze. Two wolf-men stood beside the rock pile, and they took turns howling. One of them, representing the larger group, had gray fur and a heavy stoop to its back, but its size and strength was incredible. The other, taller but thinner in the arms, snarled and consistently bared its ugly yellow teeth. Whatever they said between their howls, neither paladin could hear through the din.
“We’ve seen enough,” Darius said.
“Wait.” Jerico grabbed his arm and then gestured. “Something’s going on.”
The two leaders stepped onto the pile of rocks. They scattered and shifted, and then Jerico realized they were no rocks. They were bones, an enormous collection, all of them incredibly old. With their ascension, the rest quieted so they might hear their leaders speak.
“I am Bonebite,” said the older wolf-man. “I speak for Redclaw, pack leader of his tribe. Let all look upon me and know my strength.”
Bonebite stood to his full height and howled. It went on and on, at a pitch that made Jerico’s ears ache.
“I am Goldteeth,” said the other. “Pack leader of my tribe. Let all look upon me and know my strength.”
Goldteeth’s turn to howl, and this time Jerico plugged his ears with his fingers. His howl was louder, but did not last as long. He wondered which one would be considered the greater. Was that a lecture he slept through at the Citadel? Maybe he could take his knowledge back to his teachers and…
He felt a pain in his chest as he remembered his vision of the Citadel’s collapse. No, there would be no teachers, no students, no lessons. Biting his tongue to focus, as well as fight back tears, he listened as the wolf-men resumed whatever strange ritual they’d stumbled upon.
“You called us here,” Goldteeth said, his howl still ringing in Jerico’s ears. “We come to the Gathering. Why is Redclaw not here? Must he hide behind others? Must he use your strength, Bonebite?”
The larger group growled, the sound low and deep.
“Redclaw hides behind no one,” said Bonebite. “His pack is strong, and he is stronger than I. Would you insult what you cannot strike, Goldteeth?”
The other’s turn to growl and yip. Jerico strained his eyes to see. Goldteeth had bared his fangs, and he paced before Bonebite. His fingers opened and closed, as if he were imagining burying his claws into a foe.
“I hear his reason, and I come now to challenge it. Redclaw would seek to be leader of leaders, yet he will not appear at his own Gathering? I will not bow my head to such a coward. Hear me, it is I that should lead your pack. Goldteeth is the stronger, and Redclaw the weakling.”
“Then why is your pack the smaller?” asked Bonebite. He gestured toward them, as if mocking their numbers. “If you are stronger, why does your pack not rival ours?”
“You grow fat on better land,” argued Goldteeth. “You hunt by the river in your secret place, but it is secret no longer. We also hear of the weakness of Redclaw. My pack is small, but it is strong. You nurse weaklings and gray-furs. You do not cull the lesser. Two wolves can destroy twenty cows, Bonebite the gray-fur.”
“That got under his skin,” Darius muttered as Bonebite howled at the top of his lungs, the rest of his pack joining in.
“Still not sure what we’re watching,” Jerico said, raising his voice to be heard.
“A pissing contest is my guess. I also think Bonebite’s pack is the one that’s been giving us trouble.”
Jerico agreed, and he quieted down as the events unfolded. The two leaders were crouching before one another on the pile of bones, their teeth bared and their ears flattened.
“I challenge you!” Bonebite howled, and the rest of his pack nearly lost themselves in their excitement.
“You fight for Redclaw!” Goldteeth shot back. “He must accept my victory.”
“You will have no victory,” Bonebite snarled.
“Swear it!”
“Redclaw will accept!” cried Bonebite. “But you will fall to this gray-fur, you proud, stupid pup.”
“Holy shit,” Darius said, his mouth dropping open. The two wolf-men lunged with vicious speed, slashing their claws into each other’s flesh. Their teeth snapped and bit, and the blood quickly flowed. Jerico watched best he could, considering the distance and the darkness. He imagined himself fighting either, and the results didn’t seem promising. They were towering figures of muscle and fur, teeth and claw. Based on Darius’s cursing and slack jaw, Jerico could tell he felt the same.
At first, Goldteeth seemed to hold the advantage. He tore into Bonebite, his claws raking along his opponent’s shoulders. Several times he stopped to ram him, pushing Bonebite toward the edge of the bones.
“They must stay atop it,” Jerico said, suddenly realizing the match’s sole rule. “That’s how they’ll decide.”
Bonebite went defensive as his back feet pressed against the final pieces of bone. His head dipped low, and his broad shoulders curled inward, his elbows pressed tight to his sides so his hands might protect his face. The other members of the packs howled and cheered, depending on whose side they rooted for. To Jerico, it almost seemed like they cheered for the sight of blood no matter who spilled it. Goldteeth slashed at Bonebite, who swayed with the blows, preventing them from gaining any strength. Blood dripped down his arms from the shallow cuts. When Goldteeth bit, Bonebite’s claws were there, pushing him back and always threatening to hook his snout.
Losing his patience, Goldteeth suddenly lunged, all his weight bearing down on his opponent. Jerico tensed, expecting the confrontation to end, but the older wolf-man was a cunning one. Instead of trying to block the blow, or step out of the way, he stood erect and opened his arms wide. Goldteeth barreled into him, quickly wrapped in Bonebite’s iron grip. Bonebite spun, slamming Goldteeth to the bones beneath him. The two snapped at one another, but Bonebite had leverage, and his teeth sank into the vulnerable flesh of Goldteeth’s neck. The horde of wolf-men cried louder. Blood spurted across the bones.