Gyada stood inside a circle of the wolves the first day. They snarled and snapped in an attempt to unnerve her. Her form was much smaller than most of the werebears the Weres had encountered. Their overconfidence showed when the first one charged in only to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck by Gyada’s mouth and thrown across the room with a yelp. There was a solid cracking sound when one of its legs hit the wall. Even with the Weres ability to heal fast, that Wolf would be out of this fight.
The three remaining wolves started circling back and forth. Their goal was to make her lose track of one of them so that one could dart in and hamstring her. To say it was a spectacular failure was an understatement. She managed to toss the one that tried to hamstring her against a wall with a remarkably dexterous twist of her back paw. Gyada then grabbed the one that had feinted to distract her by the scruff of the neck and threw him into the third.
She moved that little bit faster than they were expecting, catching them off guard. She wasn’t quite as fast as Boris and Janna, but she was faster than the average werewolf. Once they changed back, she scolded them for hesitating. For thinking too much before attacking.
She still didn’t seem to recognize how much the world has changed. Her companion, a lithe Mongolian female Were called Nergui, was the one who suggested they run her through rifle and pistol training with a group of normal humans. Paul had been reluctant to allow it, but eventually caved in when it was pointed out to him that she was no more a danger to the other human trainees than they were to each other.
Paul ripped a gun from the hands of one of the other trainees within a couple of minutes of handing them out, for failure to follow the order to keep the muzzle pointed away from everyone, preferably towards the ground. He raised the gun and it barked as a shot fired from it.
“First thing when you get a gun, check the damned thing doesn’t have a bullet in the chamber before you do anything. When it is first handed to you, check that it is unloaded. Even once you’ve checked don’t point towards something you don’t wanna destroy. Got it kiddies? “Murmurs of agreement had followed. Considering some in the group were definitely older than Paul, Gyada found this amusing, but she made sure that she followed his instructions. It was evident he’d trained people with these weapons before.
When she saw how much destruction even the smaller ‘pistol’ did she was significantly more cautious about everything around her. She also stopped being so focused on being allowed to roam. It was clear that they were worried about her being injured by something she simply hadn’t seen as a threat.
She is also unsure why those guns that had fired at her earlier hadn’t done more damage to her. After all, Boris and Janna had no problems tearing her flesh with their claws when they trained with her. It was a question, but not one that needed a quick answer. Despite everything, she felt the guns were an inappropriate tool of war.
They offended her sensibilities.
Philosophically, she seemed to consider guns cheating. War was brutal, and she’d let slip that she had been a shield maiden amongst the Rus. In her opinion, they were items for pure destruction, not suitable for honorable warfare. She had no objections to archery, and even crossbows were grudgingly acceptable as real weapons of war, but on some level, guns were killing machines used by the masses.
Perhaps it was the relative lack of skill required to become proficient with them. Gyada had spent years learning how to use a sword, axe, and shield properly in warfare. The basics of learning how to use a gun took minutes. And in some ways she was correct. The weapons massively increased the number of people able to be put on a frontline, as soldiers no longer had to be trained for years on end and supported by a large population base. They could be conscripted and given a few weeks training, then sent to the battlefront.
Gyada’s considered opinion appeared to be that the clashing of the massive armies of the twentieth century in World War I and World War II were simply a crude attempt at population control. She could respect the skill of individual generals in outmaneuvering and outthinking their enemies. All she saw in such massive forces was the pointless sacrifices of many lives. From a certain point of view, Boris could see her point. It wasn’t unlike Bethany Anne’s methods. Bethany Anne didn’t focus on using large forces. She focused on training the best small forces she could.
With the speed, strength, and skill that a Were or a vampire could bring to bear, each individual of her rather smaller forces could probably take on a company of ordinary soldiers. They were trained to the level of special forces and had additional enhancements that were force multipliers beyond that.
Something didn’t quite mesh here for either Janna or Shen.
Yes, Gyada had literally centuries to consider consequences, but why would a late Dark Age person consider such things? How would she have thought about the concept of it initially? They wondered what was in the Kurtherian computer’s database and what it had taught her beyond her understanding of the Etheric. Marcus had described her theoretical understanding of Gravitics as exceptional.
What else, they wondered, had she learned?
CHAPTER TEN
Gyada’s Past
Finally, Gyada felt that she had a good enough grasp on Russian and English between them to talk to them about her past with minimal interruptions for clarity. If she didn’t know the right wording in one language, she would switch to the other
“I was born, oh, I am not really sure how long ago. Shen has suggested somewhere between eight and nine centuries. It was in the country you now call Sweden, what was then called Svitjod. My father was a renowned warrior, a wearer of the bear shirt. I was his third daughter, though he had six sons. All of us were raised as warriors, as befit the get of the champion of the King of Svitjold. “Her tone slowly changed to a rhythmic and melodic cadence as she spoke, as if letting the story tell itself.
“Children of my father, and his father before him had an ax placed in their hands before they took the first milk from their mother’s breast. Some say his line could trace itself back to Tyr, although he never claimed that. He simply focused on making sure his children carried on the legacy of skill and loyalty to their leaders. He had maintained and strengthened in his father’s name. He expected the same from us.”
“A tale reached us from the Finns, who our then-King had friendly contact with. It was about a land beyond theirs. This land had been a prosperous kingdom, but when its ruler died his eight sons fell to squabbling over who was best to take his place. This had resulted in a conflict that lasted many years and stripped the kingdom of warriors. Now, the King of the Finns was a wise man. He felt that with only one son to come after him, annexing that kingdom would stretch his resources to the point it would make his nation vulnerable.”
“My King had two sons, both highly capable. Both wished the glory of conquering and ruling a new kingdom. However, in the end, it was decided the eldest should go. The youngest already had a wife and a son, and was the preferred heir of his father for the stability that gave his future rule.”
“My father was getting on in years, and this campaign would enable him to secure the future of our family. Thus, my eldest brother was chosen to replace him as champion, and the rest of the family followed our father into the war.”
“Our force numbered in the thousands, with adventurers, poor freemen and former thralls joining our ranks. However, once we reached the lands we were to conquer we found a problem. There were no large bodies of troops to face us, only small harassing forces. But the King’s eldest son had been a wise man too. He declared that each man would choose to form warbands around a single leader, who he would name Jarl. Each Jarl was responsible for declaring the borders and eliminating any who objected to their rule within their lands. Fully half the warriors decided to stay under the King, some of these being younger sons of Jarls from the homeland, but the majority were freed thralls and townsfolk hoping to prosper in this new land. The losing natives would be slaves to aid their enterprises and crafts.”