Plight of Madness: Chapter 1

BO AND THE LEGIONS OF WINTER

One Year After The Escape

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Bo looked out of the prow of the Blizzard, water and fog rolling off it. As the mighty ship pulled closer, clouds billowed, the fog dropping away to a light dusting of frost. Bo snarled, digging his claws into the ship’s deck, and turning to the man beside him. The man possessed no eyes, and his eyelids were puckered closed with ice that gathered around his brow and nose. He wore robes of faith and stood barefoot on the icy deck.

“We will be there shortly. Gather the men and make ready to disembark. I want my pack close. Rouse them. I need provisions stacked and prepared, and the extra spears and swords should already be bundled. I want them off this ship when we land. Bring your acolytes forward. I want that wall high and wide. I need about five square miles walled off,” Bo said. He snapped as the priest bowed before him, rushing off to press his commands.

Bo didn’t trust him. Fear and lack of discipline had cost the man his eyes. Bo remembered the way they felt as he chewed them, when they popped and spewed their charge within his mouth. Rex was punishing Bo with the placement of this man. Rex was still stinging from the bite Bo had given him.

As a runt, Bo knew his place within the pack, but his lessons had taken root well, and they all knew his strategies were sound. Four great wars had brought almost nothing but victory to Bo, while his brothers and sisters had known defeat. The Master would give him vanguard of the troops in this one. Bo knew Rex would despise him for it.

Behind him Bo could hear his men forming ranks. He did not look. He depended on their efficiency. Checking on them sent the wrong message. He knew they would not disappoint him. Not after Greel.

The land showed itself suddenly, and when Bo saw the dead village, he squashed the pity that rose within him. The loss of life here had been overwhelming. Bo felt the dead who haunted the place drawing nearer. He sent up a quick prayer to Bluxho for their deliverance and waited for the ship to heave against land.

The docks were gone. The tidal wave of the moon shattering a year and a half ago had ripped it all away. A few pillars and warped boards were all that remained of what had been a bustling harbor. Bo wondered at the Master’s choice of landing spots. There was a message being sent here. Bo was not entirely sure what it was.

One enormous leap when the ship hit land, and Bo alighted on the rocky shore. He lifted his nose to drink in the scent of the place and could smell rot, dead fish, and a few humans. Slaves, most likely. Master didn’t take well to slaves, and Bo knew he would not turn these escaped slaves away but would put them to work and talk to them about the Mighty Bluxho.

His paws crunched the freezing mud as he stepped carefully onto the first street he came to. The devastation this place had seen was legendary. All the buildings had been reduced to piles of foundation, and boards thrown akimbo and knotted up on themselves. Bo sniffed in the direction of a building, smelling ale. He guessed that place had at one time been a bar, and knew to send a man to gather what barrels could be salvaged and to put them under guard. Master was against all forms of liquor. His men would receive none, so Bo would remove the temptation.

His men stood in tight formation as they filed off the ship, and Bo stepped close to the line and sniffed them, sensing no fear but a great amount of awe as they looked around at the decimated city.

Bo loosed a howl that brought his men slamming their weapons against their shields, and a grunt sounded off around him. He snarled down at his men. “We are ordered to set up a foothold here, and we will do it. I need men to clear rubble and erect a war tent. I need salvage men to gather whatever supplies remain here that are worth something. I smell ale.” Bo saw the eyes of his men shift, and he laughed. “Gather it and guard it. Any man who smells of spirits will be staked to the ground.”

The priest came to his side and laid a hand on Bo’s pelt. He gripped the ice that clung to the fur, and Bo heard the icicles cracking and breaking. He snarled as he turned to the priest, who gestured to his fellows. There were seventeen priests here. Bo growled at them and motioned to the edge of the town with his snout.

“Wall it all off. Give me a small gate, tall enough for my mother to stride under with the Master on her back, and wide enough for three men abreast. I want it up by the fall of night. Master will be here early tomorrow, possibly before the break of day. Do not fail me.”

The priests bowed and shuffled off, and Bo turned back to his men.

“There will be a wall like there was in Ebenloc. I want men atop it as soon as it is ready. Until then, form a picket around this town and let nothing in or out. There are slaves here. Have them brought to me unharmed.” Bo barked, and his men scattered.

He turned to the ship and howled until the captain of the Blizzard reached the prow. “When the supplies have been unloaded, turn your ship around and return to the Island of Storms. There are more men there to bring here. Make all haste. My Master will need his legions and clergy with him as soon as possible. How long will you take to bring them here?”

“Two weeks, maybe one and a half.”

Bo sniffed for a lie but found none. He smelled no fear and deep respect. He nodded and turned to the city. He needed the highest vantage point he could find. He needed to get a good look.

Snow fell, and Bo thanked Bluxho for the blessing. At the closing of his prayer, the temperature dropped five degrees, and Bo smiled.

A courtyard had been built high in the middle of the city, which sloped up into the forest beyond. Bo reached this point and smelled the air. His hackles rose, and he realized they were not alone. He could smell steel, and the scent set his teeth on edge. He yipped, and his runner appeared as if from nowhere.

“I smell steel, Bastion. Why do I smell steel?”

“You shouldn’t, General. Our men are outfitted with ice armor.”

“Yes, but that does not change the fact that I smell it.”

“Maybe it is a foundation or a bit of a door or vault that you smell.”

“Oiled steel, Bastion,” Bo snapped. “I smell oiled steel. It is giving me a headache. I need the Yeti Slayers. Now.”

“How many?”

“Get me two squads.”

The man burst away at a run.

Bo looked at the wall that slowly formed. It edged its way from the shore, out around the ruins of the town and back to the shore on the other side. It was four feet tall now, and Bo knew it would be another few hours before it was at the thirty he desired.

In moments, two squads of Yeti Slayers stood before him. Elite beyond question, they were led by Bo’s favorite commanders.

“The wind sends me the taste of steel. Find it and bring it to me. It is a weapon or armor. I need to speak to whoever wields or wears it. Bring them to me subdued but alive. Stealth will accomplish this task.”

The two groups of seven men nodded and rushed away. Bo sat, letting his back legs rest, and felt instant relief. He did not know the last time he rested and, soon, it would take a toll on his mind. He needed to stay sharp. He needed sleep.

“Not until the Master arrives, and I am dismissed,” he said to himself. Weariness rolling around on his shoulders and flanks, he growled.

The sightless priest came to him a few hours later with a look of despair on his face. “My priests are weary. We need rest.”

“When my wall is built, you will rest. Until then, you should be on-site. I will hold you accountable should there be a weakness in my wall.”

The man nodded and turned to go. Helt, or Selt. The name had an elt in it, Bo was almost sure. How was he supposed to remember when that man was so weak his presence actually hurt Bo’s teeth?

Rex was trying to sabotage him. All these priests were low in faith, high in maintenance. Bo snarled as he thought of the last one who served him. That had been a man of men, great and powerful, a tower of faith, and a beacon of terror. He had been one of Bo’s greatest strengths. Rex killed him, Bo was almost sure of it. But the body had been claimed by the tempest, and there was no way to prove the murder. Bo shook his head, hearing the icicles tinkling, and smiled.

Rex had to be dealt with. Bo hated to plot against his alpha, but the situation was reaching a freezing point. Soon, they would be locked together and the fight would be necessary. Bo had to figure a way to end him before jaws snapped and claws dug. He knew he could not win a battle against Rex.

Slaves were brought before Bo, and they were dealt with. He had them fed and put to work. He told them he would introduce them to their new commander when he arrived. He did not proclaim them free men, but he knew they would be. Master did not take well to the enslaving of men.

It was almost night, and dusk settled around Bo before a squad of Yeti Slayers showed up with six men. Subdued they were. Each of these warriors had taken a beating. All of them were unarmed and bound. They dropped on their knees before Bo, and he smiled at the stark fear in their eyes.

He had almost forgotten the naked panic his presence brought. When warriors, any warriors, who were not the charges of the Master saw one of the seven generals of the Frozen Legions, they reacted like this. The next part was his favorite. He stepped close to them, and they whimpered. These were Milk Warriors. They were hard but knew little of the horrors of Drine. Bo lowered himself to the ground and snarled. He snapped before looking the obvious leader in the eyes and saying.

“Who is your master?”

Shock. The sight of a seven-foot tall wolf was bad enough. Hearing it talk was beyond horrible. Bo lapped his lips as the men quailed, and he smiled slowly.

“Answer me or I will snap you up one at a time.”

“We serve Treason. We are of his Treacherous Legions.”

Bo stepped back. How did he know? How did the Master’s enemy know they were coming and where they would land? Bo knew he would need more information, but he needed to put the proper fear into them before he had them taken away. He noticed his elite troops had removed every scrap of steel from these men. He smiled at their efficiency and lapped his chops once again. With one great snap, he bit into the head, chest, and torso of one of the underlings. He tasted magic in this warrior’s bones, and Bo knew these were no mere warriors of Treason’s. This was something else.

Bo chewed as his blood heated and his appetite raged. Manflesh always made him hungry. He chewed longer, enjoying the bones crunching in his mouth, then spat the man out at his comrades. The entire top of the man’s body was naught but ragged meat and crushed bone.

“Take them to the war tent and tie them up outside.” Bo smelled the urine hot on their thighs and laughed. He looked out at the ocean and back at the forest behind him. The runner showed up again, and Bo swung to him.

“Our enemy knows we are here,” Bo said. “Fortify the line and command those priests to hurry.”

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It was the dead of night when Bo stood at the gate of the frozen wall, staring out at the forest and the road that wound into it. He sent warriors up that road, and they had not come back. He could smell his enemies out there, surrounding the city and waiting. Who might their commander be?

Bo had found out the name of every officer of Treason’s army. He had studied them all, poring over the descriptions of their battles and tossing out all the lies. Conquering generals and warlords wrote about the battles. They told their own legends. Bo had learned how to see past the swagger and pomp and into the eyes of the battle as fought by the warriors. He studied all the minds who served Treason, except the new man. There was no information on him.

He was a common warrior elevated to the rank of general by the Madness himself. A Milk Warrior who had ridden a bull to death in the festival of Father’s Fall. Bo knew the significance of that, but it did not scare him.

The silence did. The waiting. The idea of what his frozen warriors were doing out there or having done to them. Regan his name was. Discounted because of his mother’s breast. Thought low of and, in many ways, ridiculed for his status in the army. He would be leading other Milk Warriors, and that would be the downfall of Bo’s men. If they knew, if they had any inkling they were surrounded by Milk Warriors, they would want to charge. No warrior of Drine would stand for such a thing. But Bo knew better.

He studied the battles of the Milk Warriors and their commanders. No one else had. No one cared or gave any credit to them at all. But Bo knew, and the thought of being surrounded by them frightened him. His hackles raised, and he needed blood again. He shook his head and growled to his second.

Trek had been a warden of some note before his warlord had fallen. He had been unwilling to serve the new one and had run. The action alone sentenced him to death at the hands of anyone who knew him, but Bo demanded him. He had been useful many times. Let his brothers and sisters take warrior leaders into their ranks. As his second, Bo wanted a scout.

The man stopped before Bo and quickly bowed.

“They are out there, Trek,” Bo said. “They want to take our city before our Master has even landed. They want to know our numbers and mark our legions. We will not allow it. I will not allow it.”

Trek nodded to Bo and gritted his teeth. “What is your command, general?”

“Hold this wall. I go to see about our Master’s arrival. We must hold.”

“We will, master,” Trek said.

“Take anything you need, but do not advance. They hold the advantage in the woods until my brothers and sisters get here.”

“Then they will rue their decision to join this war,” Trek said.

Bo didn’t know about that.

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The weather became bitter cold. Bo could see its effects on the area. The wood was becoming brittle, the water hugging tight to the shore frozen up to ten feet out. The wind was cutting, and Master’s flag had frozen over. Bo knew it would not be long before he came. He smiled at the prospect.

He would see his mother. She could not speak, as he and his siblings could, but she loved him, maybe more than any of the others. They all hated her.

A reminder of what they had been born as, she was. A wolf with little intelligence and no ability to reason for herself. They had all been born simply wolves and nothing more until Bluxho blessed the offspring, and they became intelligent. Bo needed his mother when the others ignored and shunned her. He knew they saw it as a mark of weakness, but he didn’t care. He was excited to see her again.

When the sleet scraped across the ground, Bo howled and his troops gathered in lines on the streets. He walked through them, snapping and growling at them, but they showed no fear. He loved them all and was proud when he reached the shore and saw in the gloom the steel prow of the Decimator. Master was here now, and Bo felt the dire need to impress him.

When the ship crunched against the ice it held fast. A swirling of wind and the vessel was frozen in. With one great bound, Master hit the ice, riding mother. She howled, and Bo howled back. His tongue lolled from his mouth as he panted. The Master rode to him then stopped. Bo dropped to his knees and lowered his head.

“Bo, are we dug in?” the Master said. Bo looked up, mesmerized by the sight of the mighty man. Wild black hair, enormous heroic body, seething ice cold eyes, and frozen to the side of his torso, the steel medallion Bo had little knowledge of.

“We are, Master, but we have company,” Bo said. Master was a man who demanded bad news instantly.

“Call me by my warlord name, Bo. I will not ask again.”

“Yes, Trendakale, it will not happen again.”

“What is this company we have drawn?”

“The forest outside the city is surrounded by warriors. I have six in captivity. They claim to be Treason’s men.”

Trendakale threw back his head and laughed. “Of course they are. Why would I think I could come to this continent and not be noticed by that bastard of Drowned’s? He is more powerful than I gave him credit for, Bo. Much slyer than even I thought he was. He has spies, dear friend. He wants us to know he has an eye in the castle. This war will be as tricky as I thought it would be.” He leaned back and extended his arms as if to embrace the sky. “We will fight any fight he designs for us, great and terrible Bluxho, Goddess of all Destructive Storms.” He looked down at his mount. “We do not fear a man of cunning like Treason, do we, mother?”

Bo’s mother threw her head back and howled under the Master, and Bo added his call to hers. “We fear no man, lest he be a man of faith. And the bastard has no faith.” The temperature dropped twenty degrees, and Trendakale laughed.

The sky rioted with lightning and sleet, and Bo felt his heart quiver at the might of the storm. He howled again and heard his brothers and sisters join his call, out there in the ice and snow of the sea. They had all arrived, and now awaited Xaxar Trendakale’s command.

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