We were on our way to border creek on our cart. It had taken us a day and a half to walk from the little hamlet to Leicester, but it would only take us around 8 hours by cart, to return. Going back to border creek made me think about all that had happened in the past year. It was almost November; I had been in the 6th century for almost 11 months. I could still vividly remember the smell of the earth and the ground of the forest when I finally awakened from my long walk.
I remembered looking into the cold stream and barely recognising my face. I doubted that version of me could recognise me now. I had lost a lot of weight during the walk, I was thin and malnourished looking. I had long wild hair and a splotchy beard. Oh, how much difference a year makes. I was no longer malnourished or skinny, I was long and lean. My hair was no longer messy or crazy, it was short and neat.
Actually my hair wasn’t really hair any more. Ever since that first transformation my hair was more resilient and slightly out of phase with the world. It couldn’t be cut or combed anymore; it grew back into a neat short haircut and then stopped growing. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about going bald like my father.
I could grow a beard and it was no longer splotchy, it was thick, black and bushy. Don’t ask me why I could grow a normal beard when my hair was no longer real hair, I don’t know, my power is weird and I still don’t fully understand it. My power is weird.
The biggest change however was in my eyes. When I first awoke from the walk my eyes were blank. I was an outsider to the world, nothing on this earth held any interest to me. I found the concept of interacting with other people alien to my instincts. I thought the little hamlet of 50 people to be too populous.
I still hadn’t recovered all of my humanity that I had lost in the walk, but I had regained the parts that I wanted. I had friends now; I had people I had formed bonds with. that would have felt impossible to the shell that woke up in that forest.
That wasn’t to say that everything was perfect, I had killed people and done things I never would have thought that I would have to do… I was woken up from my reverie by a massive Jolt that nearly threw me out of our cart.
I picked myself off the cart floor and jumped out. The cart wasn’t moving very fast, barely faster than walking pace, so it was safe for me to jump out. The path was downhill so it took a while for the cart to slow to a stop, there were no brakes on the cart. I walk down the hill to the cart and inspected around the cart, nothing had broken but one of the spokes on the rear left wheel was cracked. Everyone got out of the cart and inspected the damage; they had much more experience with medieval wheels than me. I preferred fifteen52 forged alloy wheels, personally.
Mark untethered the two horses and led them over to the stream to water them; he staked a peg into the bank and let them graze on the grass whilst we assessed the damage. The damage was assessed and we had to take the wheel off. This proved to be much easier than modern times as there were no complicated 5 bolt patterns or tyre wrenching required. The wheel was held together by an axle and wooden peg that went through the axle rod, holding the wheel in.
Mark got back and helped me lift the back of the cart off of the ground. Isiah hammered the peg holding that wheel, out of its socket. And then Isiah and a one armed Josiah gently removed the wheel from the axle. The cart balanced itself on three wheels. It was fairly empty and we had moved our packs to the opposite corner to make it easier to lift the back.
The break was long and diagonal. I went to the front of the cart and rummaged around my pack, whilst bringing out a few 3 inch long nails from my void space. These were not like the round shiny silver nails from modern times, these were square and covered in forge scale. I also got some thick tanned leather strips from my back pack. I had bought these specifically in case of this happening. The 6th century wasn’t known for its glass smooth roads, and as far as I knew suspension hadn’t been invented yet.
I bound the leather around the cracked spoke and then hammered a nail through the middle of the break, at the thickest point for both sides. I then made sure that the leather was stretched and bound as tightly as possible before nailing the two ends of the crack. I continued to wrap the leather strip and nailed them to the unbroken ends of the wheel. I bent the nails on the other side so that they stayed firm for the Journey. Whilst I did that, Isiah had gone into the woods and hunted us a couple of rabbits, Mark had been fishing and fished us a … trout, I think. Josiah had foraged in the woods and gathered firewood for a fire.
It was around midday and our breakfast had been light (no one had felt like eating before the funeral). Isiah lit the fire whilst I brought out the cooking pot. He had also gathered a bunch of mushrooms, mostly penny buns (porcini) and oyster mushrooms. I brought out some onions and garlic, as well as some root vegetables, which we had bought at the Market in preparation of our trip. I brought out a piece of pork Jowl preserved in salt, I chopped up the Jowl and put it into the cooking pot, I then added the onions and root veg, finally added the washed and chopped up mushrooms and the smashed garlic into the pot to cook. Whilst I did that, Isiah dressed the rabbits and cut the rabbit into small pieces. I put the rabbit into the pot along with a few dried thyme leaves and a secret pinch of chilli powder. After a few minutes I added some water and put the lid on the pot to let it stew.
Whilst I was doing that, Mark had whittled some tree branches and skewered the fish after removing its guts. He planted the skewers near the fire. We chatted for about 10 minutes waiting for the fish to cook, it smelled divine, you could see the juices inside were bubbling. We divided the fish up and ate it after seasoning with salt. Isiah and Josiah managed to snag most of the fish, whilst Mark and I got about a third to share between us.
The stew needed more time and we were temporarily satiated, so we decided to put the wheel back on the cart again. We finished doing that in about 10 minutes. We sat down around the fire and ladled ourselves some of the stew. It was good, I mean really good. It was light and earthy, and it was particularly good at softening up the hard bread we travelled with. The pork Jowl added a baconiness, which went well with the mushrooms and the gameyness of the wild mushrooms. The others also seemed pleased with the meal as they finished of multiple bowls of the stew in a reverent silence.
We finished our lunch and continued on our way, the Journey was uneventful and we spent most of the time chatting and having fun. But there was an air of death that hung around us; the battle was still fresh in our minds, especially as Frank’s funeral had reopened the wound. We were all pretty worried about the war and the battles to come, especially after the battle with the blood wolves. We all had heard the rumours about the monsters that worked for the Witch (I know this is a cliché) but hearing about something and actually seeing it are completely different.
“How do we kill those monsters?” Mark asked me. He meant as normal human beings. Not realising, at that time, he was surrounded 3 to 1 by supernaturals.
“I only know of three ways to kill a were-wolf, and these are largely based on rumours” I said. Mark leaned forward, as did Josiah who was in the cart. Isiah was driving (is that still applicable?) the cart, but even he was interested, I could tell because he tense up. “Fire. Burning them to death works on most things. I guess that is why the King likes his burnings. Chopping their heads off also works, I know this one because that’s what I did to the blood wolf (I couldn’t call him Graith in front of Mark). And this last one is a rumour and I am not absolutely sure I believe this one fully, but cutting them with silver stops them from healing as quickly, silver weapons are rumoured to hurt them like normal weapons hurt humans.” (No, silver doesn’t visibly burn like in the TV shows. But it does inhibit the supernatural healing abilities of weres and vampires.)
“Smithing swords and knives out of silver is not really practical. The metal is too expensive, and too difficult to forge” Mark replied. “And the sword wouldn’t be practical. I saw one of those rich merchant’s sons in the capital that had one commissioned, to show off his father’s immense wealth. He challenged one of his other rich friends to a match. The poor sod could barely lift the sword, and the thing broke in three pieces before there was a blow made in real anger.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“You could melt a little silver and paint your blade with it, I suppose” Josiah said
Mark turned around in surprise, he had not expected that answer to come from Josiah.
Here is a thing that no one tells you about being super human, your brain becomes much more efficient. You are able to move at supernatural speeds and to keep in control of that your brain improves along with your body. This doesn’t make you fundamentally smarter or wiser, it just makes you quicker. That makes you seem smarter, but in reality you’ve just had a longer time to think.
Isiah and I were also surprised by Josiah’s answer. The blow to the head had done some permanent damage to Josiah. Becoming a were, amplifies your personality and merges it with the natural instincts of your were-animal. Josiah had been brash, loud and aggressive before becoming a were-cat. His transformation should have made him more aggressive. More fighty. More brash. More loud. But he wasn’t. He was calmer, more… docile, he was quieter and gentler.
Also he was more mentally…challenged; it wasn’t noticeable to the others because his supernatural speed was compensating for its slowness to normal people. But to me or Isiah, it was clear that the bump on his head had affected him dramatically. So, Josiah coming up with a smart idea like that was surprising.
“That might just work.” I said to Mark. “But we can’t do it to our new steel swords, they have been tempered, and dipping them in molten silver would ruin the temper.” I said
“We could just paint one side of the blade.” Said Isiah, from the front of the cart.
“Bloody hell! How did you even hear us?” Mark exclaimed in surprise.
“Need good ears for hunting.” shrugged off Isiah.
“We should do that when we get back to Leicester” said Mark
We reached the little hamlet of border creek just as the sun was setting. We had made a slightly slower time after lunch as we were all a bit full and needed a nap.
We were met at the village entrance by Mathew and Ian who had spotted the cart in the distance. They were visibly tense as they came to greet the cart. They wore swords on their hips, which was not normal, especially for Mathew. He hated swords despite his supreme skill at using them.
They came up to the cart to look at who was driving the cart. At first they didn’t recognise Isiah, who was driving (You will notice I never drove the cart, I was terrible and banned from driving the cart after my first attempt). It took them a moment to recognise Isiah: He was no longer thin and wiry. He was now athletic looking; also he had a beard which he never had in the village. Actually we all had beards, it was Frank’s idea for all of us to grow beards and longer hair when we first got the mission, so that we didn’t look like soldiers. I kept my short not-hair, but all of us grew beards.
“Ho! Ian, it’s me Isiah” said Isiah as he saw Ian’s hand unconsciously lowering towards his sword.
“Isiah… wow you look different. Why are you back? Shouldn’t you be heading towards the capital?” he looked at the rest of us sitting at the back of the cart and noticed Josiah’s arm in a sling. “Looks like a lot has happened, I will let you get to your families. But we should talk tomorrow.”
Mark noticed the swords and agreed.
We went into the hamlet, it was decided that the cart would be parked near Mark’s house as Luke had the dairy barn and there would be space for the horses to rest as well as hay and feed for the horses.
We were greeted at Luke and Bess’s place with big hugs from Bess. “Oh my god! You are back! You both look like ruffians.” She said kissing us both in the cheek. What is it about mothers? They greet you by picking on any changes you make that they don’t approve of.
Mark ruffled away embarrassed, whilst I looked on bemusedly. We went inside the house and settled in. Mark told them about the training camp and about his superior training skills resulting in him being put in charge of the elite training squad. We lied about our current mission saying that it was patrolling the local towns and villages to deter bandit activity.
Luke and Bess nodded at that. “There have been some stories of villages nearby being raided.” Luke said. “One of Ian’s barley suppliers told us that bandits razed an entire village to the ground. There have been awful tales of night raids.” Luke said
“They are probably just rumours and exaggerations, but the bandit activity is true. It has mostly been wagon trains like-, that has been attacked.” I looked at Mark sharply when he said that. Why do grown men turn into boys in front of their parents? The normally cool and calm professional soldier, Corporal Mark, would never have mentioned wagon trains.
“Have there been any incidents here?” I asked quickly to distract from Mark’s slip of the tongue.
“Nothing bandit related… but there seems to be a wolf that has moved into the woods. Jack (Daisy’s father) lost a couple of his flock to the wolf a few days ago. No-one is hunting the beast right now, but I suppose now that Isiah is back we will have to organise a wolf hunt.” Normally the local lord would have to be involved in something like a wolf hunt, as he would be the only one with the sufficient number of armed men for something like a hunt. But border creek was under no lord’s territory. It fell through the cracks. After the romans left, and Britain splintered. It was chaos. There were successions of lords who owned the territory and then lost a war or ran out of money. A small town on the edge of a forest was easy to miss.
I was on alert as soon as Luke said wolf. Mark looked at me with a serious expression. He was thinking the same thing as me. Werewolf.
We spent the rest of the evening chatting and then we went to sleep. Here is a truth about the 6th century that you don’t really think about, almost everything revolves around the fireplace. It is the kitchen stove, the oven, the main source of light at night, and the only warm room in the winter. So we were all sleeping in the living room as it was the only warm room.
We woke up the next day, at dawn. Mark and I fell into the rhythm of helping around the farm. Mark grew up on the farm so it was second nature. I was only here for 3 months but I still somehow fell into the routine. Mark mucked out the barn (also temporary stables) whilst I milked all the cows and then released them out into the pasture. I also brought out the horses into the fields but I staked them down, albeit with about 20 yards of rope.
We finished up and had our breakfast. And then went into the village to meet up with Ian and Mathew at Ian’s public house. We were met inside by both Isiah and Josiah who were already there. Josiah was sipping on a beer with a happy smile on his face. He was completely different than before; there was an innocence in his smile that was impossible to fake. That head wound had turned him into a simpleton, but the super speed meant that he could keep up with normal humans. In some respects it was a blessing.
We all sat down at the table, everyone else was drinking Ian’s beer. I was drinking heather tea, with honey.
Mathew started off the conversation. “So you are all bandit hunting. And it hasn’t gone well, 2 squads are gone and you have lost your best spearman.” It was a statement, not a question.
“How do you know all of that? And what was that about two squads? I thought it was only Corporal Alwin’s squad.” Mark asked sharply.
“I always know.” He replied back, that wasn’t an answer but he refused to say anymore.
“Why were you wearing a sword last evening?” I asked.
“You know the answer to that. The wolf” he said confirming all our suspicions.
Ian interrupted the tense mood around the table. “Mark, help me move these barrels around. I need more space in the back room.”
“We will need to talk about all this money you are making, Ian” I said to him across the room. Mark looked at me funny. “What? The bastard made me pay for my own recipe!” I said indignantly.
Mark made his way to the back, whilst giving us a suspicious look. His suspicions were probably reduced at that moment as Josiah belched a long burp. “This new beer is a lot better than the old stuff, slightly bitter though.” He said merrily. “Can I get another one?”
Mark shook his head and went to the back to help Ian.
Mathew turned to all three of us. “It isn’t just one wolf. There will be an entire pack of werewolves, they have been very careful so as to not cause too much suspicion, but the lone wolf that is observing us will be Joined by an entire pack soon. There will be 14 wolves out there by tonight, including an alpha.” He said to us.
“Shit!” Isiah exclaimed under his breath.
“How do you know all of this? And so help me god, if you say because you always know. I am going to punch you?” I said to Mathew leaning forwards.
“I am a seer.” He said. According to John’s memories; seers were psychics with the ability to see into the future. But unlike what I imagined, seers were not ‘gypsy’ ladies with crystal balls. Most often they were elite warriors who used their powers to see their opponent’s moves and react before the move was even made.
“So, you know what we are?” Isiah asked warily.
“You two are were-cats. You have been one for the last 5 years. Josiah is new, looking at his arm; I would say less than a month.” Isiah looked shocked; he had thought no-one in the village knew.
“Him…” Mathew said pointing at me “I don’t know what he is. Something ancient. Something new... Something powerful.”
“I am a mage. A sorcerer. I am different in that I don’t control any of the primary elements; I have power over the void, which is a variant branch of the shadow element. Up until recently, it was pretty useless in combat, as it could only be used to store things. It has… improved (I wanted to say evolved but Darwin was -1200 years old), to something more useful in battle.” I said to Mathew, although I suppose it was also for Isiah and Joey’s benefit. That was the first time I had properly described my powers to anyone.
“When are we fighting?” Jo asked. There was an efficient practicality to his simple-ness. We were beginning to waffle and his question brought us back to the heart of the matter.
“They will arrive by tonight, they plan to launch a night raid and raze the village to the ground.” Mathew said.
“We should start preparing then.” I said, actually rolling up my sleeves.