“Mom, Mr. Fiddler!” Janine stepped aside to make space for an escorted family. A cub cried after dropping a wooden toy, while his mother dragged him away. “Mom, I dropped Mr. Fiddler! Please, Mom, let me…” The cub, a skinny boy wearing a hazmat suit too big for him, broke free and darted after the toy that was about to fall through a gap in the grating. He crashed into Janine’s leg and stepped back, hyperventilating from terror.
“Morro!” His mother’s arms wrapped around him. The woman bowed, trying to cover the scared boy. “It’s my fault, master. Please don’t hurt my son; he is a good boy…”
Janine gave her a par, sensing rough scars through the rubber protection of the suit. She picked up the toy, a crude soldier playing on a drum, and handed it to the cub, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Peace, citizen. There are no more masters. Keep your strength; a brighter future awaits you and your son.”
“Mom…” the cub gasped. “Mom, it’s a woman! The doggie is female!” his mother closed the boy’s mouth and nervously thanked the warlord.
“We are called Wolfkins,” Janine told the boy. “From here on now and as long as we live, we are the shield and sword guarding you.”
“Shield?” The boy pushed the mother’s hand aside. “Why did you kill Karl’s ma, then? And Mira’s cries still—one of you monsters tore her dad’s arm right off! What kind of shield does this?”
“He does not mean anything bad, mistress…” Janine raised a finger, silencing his mother.
“I am not angry. Little one, your former ruler made a terrible choice. A choice that brought war and death to your home. Hate us if you wish, but help your friends recover and be a brave male for your family’s sake.” Janine stepped away and nodded for the guards to lead the family away.
It was hard speaking with Normies. How do you explain to someone that you murdered their family or friends for their own sake? You can’t; the very idea of it rang hollow in her soul, and so she distanced herself from the Normies. She would gladly weather the storm of their insults if this helped the shocked people make it through another day.
Her boys did not share her views. Ignacy, Bogdan, and a group of males often drank and partied alongside the regular soldiers, and sometimes Anissa joined them. Shamans grumbled about it, thinking it would make the Wolfkins soft, but personally, Janine felt nothing but pride. When the world reunites, the Wolf Tribe will have to not only cohabit but also undergo a complete transformation, letting go of the savagery and embracing civilization. To see tangible proof that such a thing was possible was heartwarming.
Plus, it was also hilarious to see the Normies try to adopt the Wolf Tribe’s style of communication, awkwardly mimicking changes in posture, words, and even asking for the scent marks of their favorite packs. Some units even took on names like the Ashbringers, Alpha Team, and Shadow Unit.
“Spirits, have mercy on these souls,” Janine murmured, pressing her paws together. She passed through the stream of evacuees. Half of her mind refused to believe that some of these young, malnourished, but otherwise sturdy-looking people will die in a few years from the poison that soaked even the stones in this place. The Wolfkins could shrug off radiation poisoning rather easily; why couldn’t the Normies? Ravager told the warlords how the Normies created the Wolf tribe. How come their immune system is so miserably weak? The tyrant fell; why can’t they live long and be happy?
There was no point in anguishing about it. The Reclamation Army improved day by day. Perhaps a new medical program developed by the blue and black wyrms could save more lives.
Shamans and wolf hags worked together to clear a square in the center of the city from rubble for the farewell ceremony. The towering pillar of the communication center blocked out the morning light, keeping the place shrouded in darkness. Shamans had collected the dead Wolfkins, stripped them of armor, and tore down several ruined buildings, creating crude slabs of rock. Each fallen was placed on an individual slab of stone and wrapped in a cloth soaked in flammable liquid. Wet lines led to a small dais in the center of the square, which held a bowl of the same liquid.
Packs gathered on the square, mourning the deceased in their own way. The Alpha and Dragena packs stood still like statues, one paw over their hearts. The Ygritte, Ashbringer, and Predaig packs assembled at the edges, hungrily examining the corpses, unsure why not honor their comrades through a good, old-fashioned feast. Janine’s and Martyshkina’s packs mingled in the ranks, retelling legends and stories about the fallen and embracing those who had lost their soulmates. Differences in the warlords’ characters created unique idiosyncrasies in each pack.
“From blood we come screaming and raging,” Soulless One chanted a prayer, walking around the dead. “By honing our skills, we leave our mark upon this violent era. Through our deeds, we preserve life. And in the end, we return to nothingness, knowing that we gave our all for the tribe and humanity. From blood we are born shouting. In death, we disappear in silence, watching over those who will come after us.”
The shaman paused, patiently awaiting Alpha’s arrival. As per tradition, either Ravager or Alpha should have concluded the ceremony by lighting the flames and liberating the souls from their mortal shells. But the strongest warlord had yet to appear. Soulless One nodded and resumed her prayer, calling for the warlord to step forward and do what is right. Civilian rulers and war leaders united in body and soul, saying goodbyes to their kin. Unity even in the most somber moments. Such was the way of the tribe. Together, we stand. Divided, we fall.
Janine moved through the ranks and approached the dais. She raised her axe to the sky, bellowing a single howl in honor of those who had died to end tyranny. Behind her, the Wolfkins joined their voices to hers, unleashing hundreds of howls that merged into a single cry of pain, anger, despair, and joy. Be happy. We miss you. I am sorry. Save me a spot at the Great Fire! Janine stepped into the pool and brought the axe down, creating a spark that set off a chain reaction, igniting a pillar of flame around her and the lines leading to the corpses.
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The flames consumed her clothes and the bare flesh of her wounds tingled as the unpleasant touch of fire licked her body. Janine embraced it, ignoring the heat in her eyes and the warmth in her fur. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and the warlord remained unmoved, serving as a guiding pillar through which souls ascend to the Great Beyond. Soulless One stood by her side, praying for the happy afterlife of her lost kin.
They stood in such a way for several minutes, relieving memories of those whom they had lost, remembering how she met the fallen soldiers of her own pack, their smiles, mistakes, insolence, loyalty, dedication, everything. A normal fire was not enough to devour a Normie’s body, let alone a Wolfkin’s. But the raging bonfire in the square burned bright enough to melt a wall of steel, and the bodies slowly collapsed in upon themselves, their flesh turned to ash, and the shamans will soon use the gleaming bones to create sacred totems.
“There is no shame in dying, for this moment comes to us all,” Janine steadily said ritual words, breathing freely in this hell. So many talents, so many potential warlords and shamans have died in the past wars, never given an opportunity to mature in full… “You have given us your all, and that is all we could have ever asked from you. Be at peace at the start of your new journey. One day, we will all meet again.”
“One day, we will meet again!” The tribe repeated after her, and a surge of fear came over Janine, pushing the grief away.
An alabaster figure emerged from the fire wall, looking down at Janine. Lakes of purple contained amber orbs that scrutinized the smaller warlord, a torch of crimson, silken hair gathered in a tight topknot that hung high from the strongest warlord’s head. Dozens of necklaces, loose bracelets, and talismans clanked against a pristine whiteness of perfect skin that barely concealed the great ropes of muscles. Three-fingered paws clicked.
“Wish to usurp my position?” Alpha asked, conveying both calmness and rage.
“No,” Janine replied honestly, “not after the loss I have brought to the tribe.”
Alpha’s gaze bored into Janine, demanding an explanation.
“The Blessed Mother is indisposed, and we must use the time of peace wisely, Alpha. The ceremony had to end; our forces are needed elsewhere.”
“Ever the coward, Janine. Let yourself fly already.” Alpha’s snout drew close. “Submit.”
Janine threw her head up, and twin sets of fangs bit her neck. Alpha wasn’t gentle; her fangs pierced the skin, narrowly missing arteries and scratching at bone. Alpha easily lifted Janine off the ground, holding her like a chew toy. Janine released the scent of submission and went limp, accepting the punishment.
It didn’t last long. A single twist of the neck tossed Janine off the platform, and the younger warlord laughed, accepting the mercy. Normally, Alpha used her sharpest claws to open up those who annoyed her. A relish washed over Janine’s strained muscles, soaking deep into her skin. Done. Her duties are done. She can go to her sons and daughter, check her pack and later have a nap to recuperate.
“The farewell ceremony is over!” Alpha roared, throwing a glance of annoyance at Janine.
“All packs, your task is to assist the engineering crews!” Janine snapped an order, guessing the hint. “Chak’s orders are to be obeyed to the letter, or you shall meet my knuckles!”
The Wolfkins banged their fists on their chests and turned to the descending Chak, who immediately began assigning the soldiers to various factories and arsenals.
“And don’t dare mess around, or your guts are mine,” Alpha added, noticing a disappointed frown on the face of a tall, white-haired Wolfkin and a wolf hag who had tried to stir trouble by beating a covering male. Both stopped their foolishness at once, and Alpha dropped off the dais. “Ravager is suffering the worst headaches. Even the Dynast advised her to take a nap, but you know how she is.” Janine thought she saw a flash of yellow on the exposed side of the tower, but it disappeared too fast for her to be sure. “Fortunately, your howl pierced the madness’ shroud, and she had permitted my leave. Ravager and Zero are keeping the maimed alive. Till Ingo should arrive any hour now.”
“Does this mean we will leave soon?” Janine asked.
“Abyss take me, if I know. Right now, the Dynast is whining about the strain on the resources to save the cripples. And Ingo is his usual self: ‘Let’s turn them into cyborgs’. Fool,” Alpha spat after imitating the man’s voice and gesturing for her pack to bring her crimson trench coat. “You look like shit, Jan. Enjoy the peace, I’ll say…”
“Warlord Janine?” A bareheaded young Ice Fang’s knight, who wore a short yellow cape, approached them. He knelt before the warlords and laid his weapon on the ground. “My condolences for the loss of your kin and apologies for the interruption. Sword Saint Bertruda demands your immediate presence to settle the matter of the insulted honor.” His expression changed at the sight of Janine’s wounds. “If you wish, lady, I can try to persuade the sword saint to postpone the duel. I am sure she…”
“Don’t bother, cousin,” Janine said.
Steam escaped her lips. She wanted to rip and tear, but maintained a cold visage that would make even their distant kin proud. She dares? Disgust at the betrayal washed over Janine. Strategically, Bertruda had picked a perfect moment. Janine wasn’t in a sound mind or body. Her sons had suffered, and her soldiers had sustained wounds. The injuries and exhaustion threatened to impair her thinking. And a refusal in front of everyone will tarnish her hard-earned title, bringing shame to the pack. An ideal combination of factors to earn an easy win and a perfect masterstroke to secure it.
But she thought better of Bertruda. She thought that she had found a friend, a sister among the ice-blooded… No more regrets. This whore dares distract Janine with an insignificant duel? Is glory all she can think of? So much for the Ice Boys being the more enlightened New Breeds. Fine, everything is fine; she’ll oblige this idiocy.
The Wolfkins on the square caught her scent and bared their lips, agitated by their superior’s anger. Janine shook off the cold fury and pulled the bowed knight up, hugging him to set an example for the packs.
No infighting. Shamans had warned the Wolfkins against fraternizing with their cousins, but the betrayal of one does not taint the rest. There is no curse on the Ice Fangs and no danger to the tribe, no matter what Lacerated One thought. The Ice Fangs played an instrumental role in saving lives.
“Alpha, lend me your coat,” Janine asked.
“You dare challenge me, sister?”
“I’m naked, and you know how our cousins are. What if Bertruda faints before I can cave in her snout?”
Alpha let out a brutish chuckle and threw her coat over Janine’s shoulders. The white shoulder tackled Janine, reminding the lower ranks of the hierarchy, and the soldiers of the Alpha pack closed in to help Janine button the coat.
“Go get her, Bull-Slayer. I expect nothing short of victory.” Alpha put a wrist on Janine’s shoulder, keeping the deadly claws away. “Make sure there are no irreplaceable casualties. We can’t afford to lose a sword saint. Or a warlord.”
“Alpha. About Terrific...” the pressure on her shoulder made Janine’s heels crack the concrete.
“Our sister is in the past. You are the future,” Alpha interrupted her. “Live and thrive, Janine. Terrific would’ve wanted nothing less.”
“I’ll do my best.” Janine found Soulless One rubbing her neck and shoulders. “Soulless One. Martyshkina’s pack is without a shaman. Aid them for a day.”