Two dark bronze doors led into the Commander’s chambers. This place, located in the center of the crawler, lacked the usual MPs or guards patrolling the corridors. There was no need for them. Be it a spy, an assassin, a curious idiot, or an officer carrying news, everyone was permitted to step inside the belly of the beast. The question was: who would return safely?
Janine passed through these doors for the first time in her life. Being in the Inner Circle granted her some privileges, and she intended to use every ounce of them tonight. Tired, hungry, and wounded, she gave the engineers the bare minimum time to remove her battleplate and crudely bandage her wound. On the way here, she encountered Zero, who gave her some pointers, and together with Tancred, they departed from the crawler.
Her nose caught the smell of food and the sweet aroma of rotting flesh dancing in the air. The chamber itself was semi-spherical in shape, with a platform in the center. Dozens, if not hundreds, of chains dangled from the ceiling, rattling slightly. Icons and religious symbols were in these chains—not brutally beaten in, but woven into them with great care so as not to fall and break. A layer of stained glass covered the wall, bathing the dais in multicolored illumination.
And on the dais sat Ravager, one leg under herself, paws wrapped around the knee of the second leg. She hummed to a pre-recorded message sent by Wyrm Lord while basking in yellow, green, red, blue, and purple lights. Beside her lay a specially designed terminal that her large fingers could use. The bright coloring of each button made it easier to understand its purpose.
“Is it the Spirits?” Janine asked, examining the curious things in the chains. There were leather books, marked by a circle; wooden figurines of beautiful women and men, lightly touched by cracks; bronze visages of winged creatures; elegant stone statues of prophets or saints; carvings upon bronze plates; sheets of preserved parchment inscribed with unknown hieroglyphics.
“These are the gods humanity prayed to before the Extinction,” Ravager said, not opening her eyes. “Belief in them has died, even in the weird lands of Iterna. Their temples are barren or buried, and few even remember their names today. I pray to these ghosts when I am myself, begging them for peace and control, or at least a merciful finality, but they never answer.”
“Once the reunification is complete and the last monster is dead, the Spirits will heal your afflictions, Blessed Mother,” Janine assured Ravager, repeating the mantra from the shamanic books. “Restored and resplendent, you shall teach us how to live in an era of everlasting peace.”
The progenitor chuckled; the sound resembled the rumblings of a distant storm approaching.
“What a beautiful dream it is, girl. Would I like it to be true,” she laughed cleanly. The laugh turned to a ferocious growl, and Ravager convulsed, lips parted, fangs flashed, and drool dripped to the floor. She slapped herself so hard that a small sonic boom rattled the chains, then continued in a steady voice. “But it is not to be. I am numbered among the monsters.”
“You are not a monster,” Janine assured her.
“I know who I am, and I know my crimes,” Ravager said sternly, raising her paw. “It is tempting to blame my sins on the red mist, but my history of ruthlessness began long before that. I have slain oppressors, but at what cost? Do you remember Mincemeat? Did any of his victims deserve to die in the crimson harvest unleashed by my claws? Or what about the tribe? All I ever wanted was for my beautiful boys and girls to be happy and live a life I could never have. Instead, I turned you into my warped reflections.”
“And we are eternally grateful for the strength you have endowed us with,” Janine said.
“Broken, so broken. At least I know how broken I am, but you never even had a chance to understand what it means not to be broken.” Ravager scratched her head, and Janine stiffened, hearing the scraping of claws against the bone and witnessing great rends left on the skin. “Grateful? This constant pounding against my skull refuses to break free and end. It’s like a volcano spewing magma but refusing to erupt. Every cell in my body calls for the destruction of another living being, for violence and domination. Do you think I like it? You think it is a blessing, little monster?!”
Janine remained silent as the Blessed Mother rose to her full height, her pupils dilating and expanding as a malevolent spirit took over. Zero told her: Do not agitate her. And Janine tried to do just that, standing calm and not reacting to the provocation of aggression.
A test. That’s what it was. This was something the Blessed Mother herself could not understand, but the shamans did. The Spirits never stopped testing the Wolf Tribe by possessing Ravager, so she would say the most ridiculous and heretical things. They asked: “Is your faith still strong? Can you walk the road to the end?” Because sacrifices for the helpless and for a better world had to be made willingly. As the Wolfkins passed these contradictory tests, they grew stronger, as did the Blessed Mother, for she never wavered in her personal duty to rid this world of those who had shed their humanity.
Janine bared her throat in submission, and Ravager froze.
“You didn’t come to hear me whine.” Ravager inhaled and sat cross-legged, her voice once again reasonable and assured. They passed the test. The ends of the horrible, self-inflicted wounds moved like worms, reaching out to each other and healing the damage. “Speak your mind, Warlord.”
“Your drool.” Ravager widened her eyes and hurriedly wiped her jaw. “No, not this!” Janine said hurriedly. “It has unmatched healing potential, and we have plenty of injured people in the medical bay.” She lowered to her knees. “Blessed Mother, I beg you. Take the price from my body, but give us a basket or two of your healing waters.”
Laughter erupted in the spacious chamber, and Ravager toppled on her back. She grabbed her sides and continued laughing, so clearly and happily that it reminded Janine of the times she had first seen the progenitor welcoming recruits into the military ranks: her inspiring presence was instilling a desire to live and win in the greenhorns.
The Blessed Mother wiped a tear from her eyes and spat. The spittle splashed, forming a small puddle in front of Janine’s legs. Ravager said, “You are wounded,” and the warlord understood the command, soaking her paw, removing the bandages, and rubbing the wound Hawkhead had left. Nothing happened. Ravager approached Janine and licked the wound, and this time there was the familiar itch as the healing process accelerated unnaturally. “Thought me stupid? It was the first thing I ever tried. Scientists ran tests, and it is apparently the result of a short-lived bacteria produced by my organism.”
“Can you visit the medical bay, then?” Janine took the Blessed Mother by a paw, pleadingly looking into her eyes. “There are cubs who have suffered 95% body surface area burns!”
“Do they still live?”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts!” Ravager interrupted her. “If they lived long enough to get aboard the Inevitable, they’ll survive the recovery. They should. Must. I will not step into the Room ever again.”
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“The Room?” Janine asked, perplexed.
“Into the whitecoats territory,” Ravager said, shifting her eyes aside. “There were incidents before. Remember Maxence’s arm. Remember those whom I killed in a fit of rage. It is best not to risk it. The lights here are calming my mind, and I need to be in top shape to address the Wastes tomorrow. Ivar prepared a speech for me, and Wyrm Lord edited it to remove calls for genocide and immediate militarization. It is quite inspiring. The Golden Wyrm is a poet at heart. I have to memorize it.”
“I understand, Blessed Mother,” said the disappointed Janine.
A mischievous glint appeared in Ravager’s eyes, and she nodded at her terminal: “Captain Ivar and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs petitioned me to reprimand you for requesting aid from a foreign power. Thank you, Janine. You have made me proud. Ignore their grumblings. If the world is to grow, it’s best to learn cooperation. I’ll let you in on a secret. An Iternian aerial fortress has taken to the sky. In two days, they should meet us en route to the Core Lands and bring in their whitecoats who are permitted to use Iterna’s cheaper secrets. The cubs of Just Peachy will have their natural skin back and more.”
“It… sounds good,” Janine said uncertainly, experiencing mixed emotions.
She hated and despised the Iternians for the cruel Culling, for the genocide of the New Breeds they had committed, and for the lost friends and her precious sons and daughters lost to the war. But even had the commander punished her, she would still have made the same choice of asking them for help.
“It is good!” Ravager said. “For too long, the planet has relied on powers and New Breeds to survive. To create electricity from thin air, to snap fingers and make a crate of food appear, or to flap up a wing and let water flow… Countries cannot live by relying on individuals or heroes. It pleases me to know that appendicitis is a dead sentence no longer. Civilization is good, Janine! But civilization needs firm arms, a savage capable of backing up a kind soul when it faces impossible odds…” She paused. “From this day forward, I bestow upon you the honorable title of Commander’s Wielder. You have earned it by using me to kill our enemy without risk to our civilians. And Sword Saint Camelia shall be known as the Friend of the Wolf Tribe. I cannot give Eled and Predaig anything they don’t already have. I have a question of my own,” she said, absently reaching for the terminal. “Does that raid counts as a terrorist attack?”
“People got scared,” Janine shrugged.
“Yes, they do…” Ravager pondered. “Never expected to live to see the day when I would actually hear such terms. How times change.”
“But for the better?”
“For the better,” the Blessed Mother promised sternly and waved her paw, dismissing the warlord.
Janine bowed, receiving the reward with pride in her heart. An honorable name! A title earned fair and square, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to lose it to anyone. She left the commander to her meditation and was surprised to stumble upon Bertruda waiting for her outside the doors, an officer’s coat and a tasty meat bar in her paws.
The warlord’s veins bulged at the memory of her ignominious defeat, but she suppressed both the shame and the desire for a rematch and calmly took the cloak and zipped it on. She hesitated but accepted the food as well, sinking her fangs into it and only now understanding how hungry she was.
“What do you want, Sword Saint?” Janine avoided making eye contact. Her rival wore a silken white shirt and pants. Instead of a belt, a gem-covered orange sash accentuated her slender waist, while the same cape cascaded from her shoulders. Surprisingly, the woman was not carrying her spear or any other jewelry.
“The medics have summoned us. It’s our turn for the rejuvenation procedures. I came to fetch you, Lady Janine.” Bertruda’s voice had a slight nasal twang.
“They could’ve sent me a message,” Janine growled. She pulled her collar down and found a strand of gray fur in a familiar spit.
Times flow fast. They took the elevator and descended to the hospital floor in silence. Moving through the corridor, Janine heard heavy puffing and realized that the sword saint’s ankle still bothered her. There was a sort of pleasure in seeing her limp to keep up, but the warlord had no time to enjoy her rival’s misery.
“Lean on me,” Janine offered her shoulder.
“There is no need…”
“I’ll drag you by the ear if you make us risk missing the appointment,” Janine warned, and Bertruda took the offer, letting the warlord ease the strain on her wounded leg.
Together, they proceeded down the corridor, and Janine looked straight ahead, doing her best to ignore Bertruda. It was childish, hardly worthy behavior, but Janine found it was easier to tolerate the other woman’s presence when she wasn’t looking at her. The mere sight of this lean form infuriated Janine, spiraling her emotions into an unnatural urge for domination. Their fight wasn’t over, dammit! Until one is on the ground, bloodied, and beaten, there can be no victor!
“Camelia explained to me you could’ve easily taken my eyes, and Tancred imparted to me how debilitating your wounds were,” said Bertruda. “I am thankful for the courtesy, and I assure you I was truly unaware of your injuries, Warlord. I acted rashly, immaturely, and…”
“You said you came to pick me up. You did.” Janine interrupted the stream of lies, stopping to let the nurses move a gurney carrying the scout who had saved Ignacy’s life. The scout slept, snoring loudly under the effects of the medical drugs.
The warlord guessed Bertruda’s question and sniffed, gleaning the information from the scent marks rubbed into the wounded female’s neck by Impatient One. Such marks served no purpose for the Normies or other New Breeds, but they helped return stubborn soldiers to the hospital before the medics unleashed their version of decimation in the form of humiliating check-ups at the pack. They also helped determine whether the returning comrade should receive leniency from the challengers. A title stolen in an unfair domination wasn’t a title worth keeping.
“She sustained an injury in battle. Her stomach has a hole, but the shot missed the spine. No biggie, she will be back in the ranks in a week or two, depending on Maxence’s mood.”
“I see. Thank you for sharing this,” Bertruda said, and they moved on. “Listen, I have caused bad blood between us.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Bull-Slayer,” Janine snapped. “The mistake was mine for violating the orders.”
“Nonetheless, I have caused a slight against your honor, and for that…”
“Enough. Please,” Janine asked and stopped, annoyed at having this conversation. “Each time a black fur and a white fur interact, a black fur suffers. I forgot this simple rule and paid the price. Simple as that.”
“This is not a rule, but a simple superstition! And you know it!” Bertruda growled, and a flash of anger flashed through her eyes.
Damn it, she reads me like a book!
“I am thankful for your assistance against the mechanical beast, and I am beyond grateful for saving my soldiers, Sword Saint Bertruda.” Janine faced her, enduring a tick in her left eye. Bertruda’s nose had yet to heal after Janine’s headbutt; her shoulder remained bandaged; and her leg swelled around her ankle and knee. “My defeat against you has caused a problematic loss of honor for my pack. That disgrace has been solved, and I have earned an even greater name. For the sake of our troops, we should keep our relations strictly professional.”
“I count our fight as a draw, Janine.” Bertruda said stubbornly. “The title is yours by right.”
“Warlord Janine,” she corrected Bertruda. “And your wishful thinking is pointless, Sword Saint Bertruda Mountaintop the Bull-Slayer. I have already entered my loss into our records. It is set in stone now, quite literally, too.”
“Then I will cut it from the stone, and if your shamans try to stop me…”
“You will die, your pack will grow weaker because of it, and relationships between our tribes will experience further deterioration. As leaders, we are obligated to learn how to act in the best interests of our groups.” Janine admitted it begrudgingly, forcing herself to relieve the shame she had brought upon her pack and Terrific’s memory. “Let’s be clear about something, Sword Saint. I can hardly stop myself from attacking you for what I view as a stolen victory. What is worse, you can hardly control yourself either.” Janine pointed a finger at a spark of anger in the crimson eyes. “You won. I lost. You have secured great honor for your household and proven yourself to be a cunning matriarch. Let it go. Please. I am not fit for intrigues, but I will kill if anyone endangers my troops.”
“Sounds like we have a lot in common, Janine.” Bertruda smiled and inhaled, banishing the rage from her eyes. “We share the same anger issues and the same desire to rise to the top. We have both harbored negative thoughts about each other, and one of us continues to do so and not undeservedly. You’re correct about our responsibilities as leaders. I think that for the shared future of our people, we ought to talk and work out our differences so that we can fight as sisters...”
“Can it.”