Three days later, they were finally ready to move onwards towards the coast. Lane was the first to climb aboard the freight compartment of the train that would take them to Eoforwic. Someone had place straw inside, to make it at least a little more comfortable for Morgulon, and Lane’s mare, too. The horse was far happier to walk up the ramp than the she-wolf was.

“It’ll be fine,” Lane said when Morgulon stopped at the bottom of the ramp. “You can just lay down again, Morgulon, and in less than an hour, it’ll be over.”

Morgulon walked up stiffly, hackles raised. When she saw the straw, she did settle down, resting her head on the floor with her eyes firmly closed. She wined softly when the compartment door was shut with a bang. Lane sat down next to her, as soon as the train started moving, and gently ran a hand through the thick fur on her neck. By the time she felt Morgulon relax a little, they were nearly in Eoforwic.

Morgulon stopped in the middle of the ramp when she saw the train station of Eoforwic. Smoke filled it from the trains, and voices from the many passengers. A whistle blew somewhere in the haze. Already, there were half a dozen busy platforms – the line to Deva was fully operational, carrying probably the most people, but the lines to Northwold and Sheaf were busy, too, not least because of the novelty factor. There were smaller lines to towns and villages surrounding Eoforwic, and finally, there was the closed-off platform at which the train to Deeshire and Breachpoint would hopefully stop soon. Once they got the bridge finished.

The noise in the hall grew even louder when people spotted Morgulon, and after a few seconds, she retreated back into the coach.

“Want me to go first?” Lane asked.

Morgulon nodded. She stuck as close to Lane as possible as they made their way across the station. It struck Lane as strange that Morgulon, who had saved her in the mountains even after Lane had tried to kill her, who faced the Rot day by day without ever flinching, was so nervous about walking through a train station. Was it the fire of the engines? The sheer mass of people? Perhaps the noise? All of it together?

They stopped by the Company headquarters to see how things were going there but didn’t stay long. Lane wanted to be sure that they made it across the makeshift bridge across the Savre before it got dark. Ideally, they would even put a good bit of distance between themselves and the river.

Morgulon hurried ahead when she realized that they were about to leave the city, and Lane climbed into the saddle rather than jog after her.

Late the next day, Lane and Morgulon reached the current end to the line from Eoforwic to Breachpoint. Navvies had started to build it from both ends – Eoforwic and Breachpoint. On Eoforwic’s side, it had been stopped at the Savre’s banks because of the bridge issue, but the workers from Breachpoint were getting close to the river from their side, too. Morgulon grumbled about it but boarded the train waiting for them willingly enough.

When they woke up the next morning, they were at Breachpoint. If Duke George Louis’s intelligence was correct, the point of attack would be just north of the city, outside of the reach of Breachpoint’s cannons, but close enough that the Valoise would be able to cut through to the banks of the Savre within half a day, where they wouldn’t even need to raise the Rot, just whip it into a frenzy.

The only fortification at that point of the coast was an ancient, derelict castle, somewhat fittingly named Oldstone Castle. George Louis’s men had scrambled to fix the place as much as possible. When Lane and Morgulon reached the stronghold, it was raining steadily, and the soldiers cheered as they walked through the gates.

“The Rot’s been creeping about the place for days now,” the Captain in charge told them. “Then we got the telegram from Breachpoint that you had arrived, and an hour later the Rot ran back to wherever it came from.”

Right about the time they had left behind the walls of Breachpoint, Lane thought. She hadn’t spotted a single Rot creature all day.

Over the next few days, more soldiers arrived, and more werewolves, too. Marianne came with Henry and Marc, soon followed by Lee and Andrew, and the young girl named Daisy who had been with Duke George Louis at Deva the day Morgulon had sent the High Inquisitor running. Eventually, the protectors of the railway crews came, too. Dale arrived with Jody, Mia, and Chester, and a day later Bernadette and her pack got there with Nathan. One of the last to show up was Fenn. He and Morgulon growled at each other, but Lane knew enough by now to realize that Morgulon wasn’t really still mad at Fenn. Had she been, he probably wouldn’t have been able to enter the keep.

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Duke George Louis came in person, too, David by his side.

The only ones who didn’t show up were the Valoise. Airships scouting on them reported that the fleet was nearby, just beyond the horizon, but it wasn’t moving. It wasn’t coming any closer.

“They’re waiting for new moon.” David finally voiced what Lane feared one morning, as the duke inspected the work that was still progressing on the keep and the walls.

At once, heads turned into their direction, but George Louis said: “Joke’s on them, then.”

Lane thought he was putting a little too much faith into Morgulon’s ability to keep them safe, but it was again David who voiced the thought: “I don’t think Morgulon will be able to fight in her state.”

George Louis stopped above the gate, folding his arms across his chest. “She won’t have to fight at all. She just has to be there, so we can. My men have spent the last few weeks lining the outer walls of this castle with all the silver we could round up,” he added, staring down at the working soldiers. “With the fire we’ll be raining down on the Rot, I have faith that we’ll survive the night. And any day they just sit out there, waiting, is more time for your brother to get here, David, with whoever he’s bringing.”

“What if they don’t even try to take this castle?” Lane asked, looking out towards the water. “They might head straight into the heartlands. Or towards Breachpoint.”

George Louis shrugged. “Either way, they’re wasting valuable time.” He shook his head. “And they’d be stupid to ignore us.”

“How so?” Lane asked.

“They chose new moon night specifically to attack, so I’m sure they expect our force of werewolves. And if they land here, or even anywhere else in the bay, what is there for them to reach within one night? We are, or Breachpoint,” George Louis said. “And no other city is as heavily fortified against the Rot coming from the outside as Breachpoint is. If they fail to take the city’s walls, we’ll simply run them over the next day. If they head straight into the heartlands, that would be bad, yes. I have no doubt that they could slaughter thousands before we could hunt them down, and that would hurt us badly. But they would also have our entire force in their back. Either way, they will ultimately fail.”

It took Lane a second to realize that George Louis wasn’t really talking to her as much as all the soldiers milling about around them.

“Think they know you’re here?” David asked. “Because that would be the surest way to draw them to this place.”

“I don’t know how they would know,” George Louis said. “But I suppose we’ll see.”

David placed on hand on the hilt of the sword he had started carrying. Lane, instead, stared towards the west. Those of the werewolves who were up on the walls kept glancing into the same direction.

Greg and his group were still a good distance away, Jody had said, but couldn’t say just how far. And they hadn’t received any word via telegram either. Lane hoped that this just meant Greg was avoiding all cities. If they were unlucky, it meant that they hadn’t even reached Mannin yet, or Sheaf.

Most werewolves were deep inside the keep though, in what had once been a dungeon. At the end of a corridor, the very last of the old cells had been repurposed and filled nearly entirely with straw. There were no torches burning anywhere close, and hidden within the straw was Morgulon. Lane was one of only two humans allowed down there. The other one was the veterinarian from Castle Blanc, who, to everyone’s surprise, had come to the keep, too.

“First werewolf cubs on Loegrion soil in who knows how long,” he had said. “And I’m the only veterinary with any experience on werewolves. I have to be here.”

It could happen any time now. It couldn’t happen fast enough, Lane thought, while on the other hand, she kept hoping that it wouldn’t happen before the attack. Morgulon was growing weaker with every new moon, and she had started losing weight again, too. If the cubs were born before the Valoise landed at the coast, Lane wasn’t sure if she would be able to defend the soldiers against the influence of the Rot.

“Five silvers say the cubs will be born on new moon night,” Nathan pulled Lane out of her musing.

“Not taking that bet,” Andrew said.

David looked up into the sky as if praying for patience. “You do realize that Morgulon might not survive this, right?” he asked.

Nathan shrugged, unrepentant. “A little bet isn’t going to make her worse.” He looked at Andrew. “Two to one odds?”

Andrew shook his head. “I’m not stupid, Nathan. You’re not the only one who noticed that there’s a bit of a theme going on here with full and new moon.”

“Damn,” Nathan said.

Lane had to admit that it hadn’t occurred to her that Morgulon might give birth exactly as the Valoise landed. “Do you think that would make the Rot worse or less bad?” she asked.

“I’ve been wondering about that, too,” Andrew said. “Any other birth, we’d be all dead. But a werewolf birth? Who knows?”

They’d find out the night after tomorrow. Provided Nathan was right, but Lane agreed that he probably was.