A few weeks later, Noah packed his travel sack and stepped out onto his stoop, ready to meet up with the caravan to travel to the new shifter territory. The sun was just beginning to rise above the city wall; its rays hitting the stones and drying the dew that had accumulated overnight. His cane tapped the cobbled stones as he nonchalantly strolled up to the front of the trading company.
He was one of the first ones to arrive and was forced to wait for the rest of the coachman and soldiers to arrive. Young lads ran chaotically around the wagons, tending to their duties with diligence. They fed and watered the horses, loaded the cargo beneath the canvas tarps, and inspected the wagons for any rotting wood that could hinder the journey. It was quite the beautiful dance of motions that Noah enjoyed watching from afar.
Everything had its proper place, and everyone had their specific purpose. A short distance separated him from the bustling crowd attending to the wagons, and yet, it felt as if an unseen barrier divided the air between them. He could see them, he could hear them, but something impeded him from making a meaningful connection with them.
Above the cacophony of noise, a deep voice called out, interrupting his musings, “Noah! Decided to explore the unknown, eh?”
He looked up to find John heading toward him. That was no surprise. John was a veteran who never missed a transport. The surprise to Noah was that Lazar was walking shoulder to shoulder with him.
He tipped his hat at the pair. “You know me, never one to shy away from adventure. Though I’m surprised to see you here, Lazar.” He stared John down with accusing eyes. “Unknown territories aren’t the place to gain experience.”
John nodded his head morosely, acknowledging the truth behind Noah’s words. Lazar flushed in anger at their subtle exchange and threw his travel sack onto the cobbled streets. A large dust cloud plumed and caused the young lad to cough, trying his best to clear his lungs. Noah watched on with a smile as Lazar finished his coughing attack and wiped his watery eyes.
“I ain’t a newbie anymore, Noah. I have just as much right to this caravan as any of the other men,” Lazar said. “Plus, I need the money for my sister. An illness has found her and she has been unable to shake off its tendrils,” he trailed off, looking at the ground.
John wrapped an arm around his shoulder but addressed Noah, “Don’t worry Noah, I’ll look after the lad and make sure he keeps his head down.”
Noah shook his head in resignation. If Lazar wanted to take the risk, then he wouldn’t interfere. He had done the same and when he was even younger than Lazar was now.
He turned back to the wagon he had been assigned to and meticulously inspected the reins, horses, and everything else that needed to be correct to ensure he would face no unforeseen problems. The lads were rigorous in their duties, but he trusted none more than himself. He helped load the wagons with the usual goods-clothes, furniture, wooden stakes, and iron. The Shifters needed little from the other races, but the humans offered anything that might pique their interest. Anything to retain friendly relations with one of the few races that didn’t want to exterminate them.
The magic that coursed through shifter’s bodies could rip apart vampires and fae alike without the need for bone, wood, or iron. They mostly needed some of the comforts that human technologies could bring. He saw no sign of the silver contraband that he would be smuggling, but couldn’t slink away to ask Jericho. It was either loaded in his box seat like Jericho had promised, or it wasn’t.
As Noah took his seat behind his horse, he felt the familiar shuddering of the apparent solid wooden seat. He glanced around, making sure no unwelcome eyes were upon him. He shifted the top of the seat and was able to pry the top panel of wood off. The hollowed-out compartment that normally carried illegal goods was empty.
Wherever Jericho had hidden the contraband of silver weapons, he didn’t even want his inside man to know its location. He returned the pane and sat on his box seat with his cane resting across his outstretched legs. He attempted to shake off his uneasiness at the uniqueness of this job. Danger was so much easier to face when it was visible. Jericho had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep this smuggling operation quiet from even his own men. Who or what could inspire such caution from the criminal overlord?
Noah waited for fear to course through him at the unknown danger that could take his life if all didn’t go according to plan. He couldn’t feel it. Within him, he could only sense the slight excitement at risking his life. One of the few things that still made him feel alive, and he would cling to it vigorously, or suffer a living death.
By midmorning, the caravan set off, eager to cover some distance before being compelled to stop by the darkness. Noah’s wagon was once again located at the rear of the caravan and the usual caravanners kept him company. The sun sweltered down on them mercilessly, creating a shimmering mirage in the air. He kept his hat pulled low and the collar of his trench coat popped high to protect his pale skin from the sun’s fury.
The trading company had announced their destination for this caravan just this morning. The Baleful Fiend Pack. Not the most welcoming or peaceful name for a shifter pack they were voluntarily heading straight toward. The word around the caravan was that the pack was hundreds of wolves strong and was one of the most domineeringly powerful forces in the entire region.
The journey would take their slow-moving wagons three weeks each way, maybe a little less if they pushed the horses. At some point, the danger of traveling long distances in the Wilds outweighed the benefits of new trading partners, but it seemed like that point had not yet arrived.
There was a closer shifter pack he had traded with over the years, but that pack was dying out. Their numbers were barely sufficient to hold a territory effectively and dwindled each year. The bears would eventually have to leave their territory and merge with a larger bear pack; if they could find one. Otherwise, they risked becoming a roaming band of unaligned bears, braving the Wilds with no territory to mate in safety.
If Greenwood wanted to continue its quest for allies, they would have to take the chance on this flourishing wolf pack. Of course, not even the safety of allies spurred action more than the opportunity for wealth. Shifter territories were famous for the rare tea herbs that were the beverage of choice for many humans. Only with the Shifter’s innate magic cultivating the land would the precious herbs grow. It was a big industry, and where money flowed, dangers would be ignored.
The wagons creaked along the rutted dirt road at a slow, but ever-steady pace. An unnatural silence had descended upon the caravan, and it was deafening. The usually boisterous soldiers and coachmen were subdued; their heads constantly scanning the terrain for potential threats. The caravan had never traveled this far into the Wilds before from Greenland, and most weapons had not rested in their sheathes since they departed.
“Don’t worry lad, shifter territories are the safest to visit for humans. They don’t want our blood like the Vampires or our bodies and souls like the Fae. They stick to themselves and won’t attack us for no reason.” Noah lifted his head to watch John reassure Lazar, who looked a bit nervous as they started their long journey.
“I’m not scared of the Shifters, John!” Lazar argued, but his shaking hands betrayed him.
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John stopped Lazar’s march with an outstretched arm that was almost as big as Lazar’s thighs. He looked over at the lad with a serious expression on his face. “You should be, lad. Bravery is all well and good until it is achieved through ignorance. Don’t let your pride cloud your vision of reality.”
John lowered his arm, which allowed Lazar to resume his march. The other caravanners kept silent with stoic faces at the rebuke. John walked closer to Lazar as if he was guarding the lad instead of the wagons he was paid handsomely to protect.
“The Shifters are an indomitable foe when attacking as a pack. You would be wise to acknowledge their power instead of blustering your way around it,” Smith chimed in from atop his wagon. Lazar nodded with a flushed face at the public admonishment from all sides, but embarrassment now could save his life later.
At dusk, the caravan finally stopped to rest the horses for the night after traveling a respectful distance during the day. They pulled the wagons into small circles along the dirt road, with each circle having soldiers standing watch from atop the box seats. A second wouldn’t go by during the night without a soldier stationed atop the wagons with their crossbows at the ready. A regular rotation would keep them fresh and alert during their brief shifts.
Noah inspected the guard’s crossbows and nodded when he saw that every single loaded bolt was made of bone or wood. A fae or shifter ambush would be devastating to the caravan, but a vampire coven passing through? Complete annihilation.
The tradesman and coachmen were protected inside the circles of wagons and fires were lit to keep the eerie dark at bay. They sat around the fire, drinking ale and munching on smoked meats and fish. All of them did their best to ignore the pitch blackness surrounding them, just beyond the flickering light of the fire.
Lazar had been trying and failing to keep pace with the older caravanners. The half-drunk cup of ale in his hands sloshed as he swayed and tried to remain upright. His constant hiccups brought much-needed chuckles amongst the tense travelers.
Lazar leaned forward and attempted to clink his cup against Owen’s full one, causing the ale to slosh over the rim.
“Cheers my good man!” he drunkenly slurred.
Owen scowled at the inebriated lad. “You won’t have to worry about the shifters if you keep up with your annoyances.”
Lazar either didn’t understand his words or ignored them. His arms flew up into the air, spilling the rest of the ale in his cup. His obnoxious voice rang out, much too grand for the conversation. “I don’t understand. Why do we have to go so far away to trade with these wolves? Was the closer bear pack destroyed?”
“Blah. No one attacks a territory. The territories have been entrenched for too long now for a foreign force to dislodge them. It would be mutual destruction if someone waged an all-out war against a pack. Another power would swallow the victor up within a month after a conflict of such magnitude.” John spit into the fire, causing it to hiss.
He appeared to be sulking as he watched the coachmen drinking their ales. His throat swallowed dramatically every time a caravanner sipped their alcohol. Shaking hands and darting eyes revealed the hold alcohol had taken on his mind and body over the years. But no matter how much he needed alcohol, he would have to remain sober for his watch atop the wagons later in the night. Lives depended on his clear mind, and he wasn’t so far gone as to abandon his duty.
“Then why are their numbers so low that we have to brave the Wilds to find a new pack?” Lazar insistently slurred.
Noah raised his hat off of his face where it had been resting. He propped his boots up closer to the fire until he could feel the heat through the leather soles. “Because of their magic,” he answered vaguely towards the lad.
“Magic? What magic does a shifter have? All they do is rip their foes apart with their teeth and claws. I’ve never heard of them using magic,” Lazar asked with wide eyes. He tipped his cup into his mouth and frowned when no liquid wetted his parched tongue. He examined his empty cup, then looked around the circle like he was looking for the fae trickster that had stolen his ale. Noah smiled at the lad’s antics, recalling his first experience with alcohol.
“No, no. You are thinking of fae magic, but each of the other two races are magical in their own ways. The Vampires are immortal and can heal from any wound not caused by something that was once living. In return for their powers, they have been scorned by the sun, unable to bear its majesty. Deep water does not suffer their presence and prevents them from crossing,” Noah said with his best storyteller’s voice as Lazar’s eyes went wide.
“Shifters can shapeshift in an instant. They are monstrous beasts that are almost as fast and strong as vampires. But nature does not give without taking. Shifters must find a mate that resonates with their magic on a mystical level. If they don’t find that mate, they can’t procreate.” Noah leaned back, whistling in amazement at his own story.
Lin had removed her comically large straw hat and her silk black hair hung down to her waist. No ale would dare find its way into her hand, and she nursed a cup of warm tea. The sorrow etched upon her face was both personal and painful. “Imagine that. No matter how much you love someone and no matter how many times you have sex, if they aren’t your mate, you can’t get pregnant.”
Smith hooted while he sharpened his silver dagger. “Sounds like a blessing to me!”
All the men laughed in agreement, clanging cups and spilling their ales. Lin’s head didn’t raise, her eyes downcast. Her fingers clenched around her mug, knuckles whitening.
“Not if your race is dying out,” Noah said in a somber whisper, breaking the merriment of the men. The laughter died down as they considered the implications of his words. An extinction that you could see coming for hundreds of years, but all you could do was wait patiently for it to claim you.
“Then why is this pack so special? Why are they thriving so much when most packs are on the decline?” Lazar asked, his voice nearly inaudible due to his slurring.
Noah had heard almost nothing about this pack and couldn’t answer the lad, but apparently, word had reached John’s veteran ears. Leaning forward, the large man commanded their attention. The flickering shadows from the flames cast a hue of mystery upon his face. The caravanners focused on his only visible eye that held stories only experience could weave.
“There are rumors of a mighty alpha so powerful that he has been able to combine packs for decades. The Baleful Fiend Pack just laid down its roots in a territory only a few decades ago. Before that, they were a wandering pack that conquered other shifter territories with impunity.”
The caravanners were silent as they leaned in to capture every one of John’s words. The crackling of the fire accompanied his tale, creating a perfect setting for mysterious tales.
“No human knows how it works, but the magic of the shifter identifies a mate more often than you might believe. Otherwise, the odds of them finding their one and only mate would be near zero. Many believe the shifter’s magic searches for a mate that nature deems as the perfect companion to help them achieve their goals in life. More wolves means more options for nature to choose their perfect partner. The more wolves that resonate, the more offspring that will be added to the pack.”
“Why don’t they just attack a human settlement, then? There are thousands and thousands of humans for them to check if their magic resonates,” Lazar asked.
Noah smiled as he pulled his feet further away from the fire, his boots beginning to smoke. “And what would their magic resonate with? Humans don’t have magic. Maybe it is possible with a fae, but humans aren’t prospective mates for shifters.”
Owen interjected, “The Shifters should just combine their packs and territories. That would solve their low birth rates.”
Some men sitting around the fire nodded their heads at the logic. Noah shook his head and made to correct Owen, but John beat him to it. “You are thinking like a human. Humans gather in numbers for safety. Shifters will only gather if there is an alpha strong enough to rule them and no alpha has been strong enough to unite that many packs and territories.”
Lin, who had recovered from her earlier melancholy, had been moving closer and closer to Owen as the night went on. They were brushing legs at this point, and Noah waited for the other caravanners to catch on to their little tryst. She pulled back her lips into a sneer and spoke with a voice as hard as iron, “Let them die out then. One less enemy for humanity in the future.”
Lazar cheered with a fist in the air. Noah frowned at the common sentiment amongst the humans.
“Shifters are the least likely to attack humans, and they remain our biggest allies against the Vampires. If there was one race to die out, I wouldn’t hope that it was them.” He leaned back and placed his hat over his eyes, done with the conversation.
Most humans were black and white in their thinking. Are they human? If not, kill them all. They were forgetting simple facts, though. Most of the Shifters and some of the Fae were quite peaceful and brought many benefits to the humans. Not to mention the fact that during the Revolution when humanity was at the height of its power, the alliance of the supernatural races utterly destroyed the humans. What made them think they could defeat them now?