The Butcher of Gadobhra

Chapter 562: Clan of the Cave Bear

"Feel the blood of the Great Cave Bear roar in your veins! We are bound by more than clan, and more than allegiance, for the shared blood in our veins binds us! Blood strengthened in battle, passed from father to daughter, mother to son, and to those we deem worthy of joining the Clan of Cave Bear! Let the blood sing in your heart as we engage in battle, for only in battle, and the destruction of our enemies does our blood gain power!"

The warriors on their horses cheered, screaming until their throats were raw. They were eager for battle, especially those who had just joined the clan or became full warriors at the age of fourteen. This was their first battle, in which their blood would gain power, and they would be claimed forever by the clan's shared destiny. Three men, bruised and despondent, were brought forward, their hands tied behind their backs and feet hobbled. One stared out at the clan, hoping for someone who would speak for him. The other two had dead eyes and kept their faces downcast, the shame too much for them. A cauldron was brought forth, and the men brought close.

"Our last battle was a great victory, but these cowards hung back, afraid to charge the enemy, fearing the rain of arrows. Others were strong, and the small wounds were less than bee stings as their blood roared. There is no place in the clan for cowards. The blood given to them is wasted, and now we will reclaim that part of our heritage." At a signal, the men were killed and their blood drained into the cauldron. Then each of the seven elders sliced their forearms, adding their own. The blood in the cauldron began to swirl and smoke. When the Jarl added his blood to the mix, it began to bubble and froth. Handfuls of herbs were added to the mixture: Blood root, purple spotted mushroom, berserker leaf, and bounce weed.

"Their weakness has been purged, and their blood fortified. The sacred brew is ready. Come forth, each of you who will celebrate this day with your first battle, and strengthen your blood. You will attack first, charging the enemy, and we will follow and watch over you. Be strong, and remember the lesson of what happens to the weak."

With only a little punching and screaming to decide who got to go first, the new warriors took a mouthful of the brew, choking it down, and then returned to their horses. Some were already seeing visions as their hearts beat faster and their minds expanded, linking to the clan's totem spirit. Karnak, one of the elders, approached the Jarl.

"Looks like a convoy of goods, just as the owl-man said, piled high with supplies, and a few of their draft peasants pulling the wagons. But most are using mules. Only fifty people total, and some of them are women. No scouts, no outriders. Green troops looking every which way and saying nothing. Should be a good hunt."

The Jarl nodded and agreed. Sending the cubs against a well-trained squad of veteran troops would result in too many of them dying on the charge. Some would find their claws, but many would drop from bow fire. But this convoy was perfect. The drugs would let the cubs ignore their wounds and force them into a berserker rage. The maddened warriors would fight like demons and not stop until everything around them was dead. Some would still die, of course, but more would come through the battle with only slight wounds as the blessing in their blood healed them quickly. And maybe, if the great spirit was pleased, one or two would find the true form and the full blessing. Those youngsters would join the veterans and be pushed to their limits, fighting and healing and fighting again. This war gave the clan what it needed: Victims to slay to strengthen their blood and expand their ranks. When the next council of the clans was called, he would attend with a veteran clan of skin shifters, and either space at the front of the circle would be made, or they would fight to earn it. He looked forward to that day, but for now, he was going to enjoy the carnage as the cubs earned their claws.

With a roar, the horsemen charged over the hill at the enemy, only a half mile away, horns blowing and a low growl coming from the charging barbarians. Jarl Brohk grinned at the veterans. "Let's follow on down. I want to see how savage these cubs are. That was a double dose of the sacred powders in that batch. This fight is going to be quick and bloody."

Ozzy saw the barbarians the moment they came over the hill. With Rolly's warning, delivered by one of his faithful duckish messengers, they were as prepared as they could be. They didn't have enough wagons to form a square, so he'd arranged them in a small arc and put Bertrand and Ernest to work carving out a trench across their rear. Like most Contract Workers, the two could dig trenches faster than a mechanical backhoe. And these two were faster than normal. They loved their work, constantly talking and joking with each other. The soldiers, who had never seen Contract Workers, watched in awe as dirt flew and a deep trench was dug across the back of the arc, and the dirt was made into a six-foot-high berm on the inside, protecting them from a sudden charge around their flanks, or bow shots from the rear.

Ozzy didn't think the guys charging would be circling around. They were screaming and charging across the half mile that separated them, their horses straining after the first quarter mile. Even horses bred in the north had trouble when running through snow. And from the spell that his two white witches were conjuring, they wouldn't be running much longer.

Titania had wasted no time setting up her cauldron over a roaring fire provided by Ozzy, who always had a supply of wood in his bag. One puff of Butcher's Breath and the wood burst into flames. Titania cackled and began tossing ingredients from her sleeves while Suzette stirred the mix and chanted with her. Ozzy could feel the magic forming, an incessant buzzing in his skull that annoyed him and terrified the soldiers.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burns and caldron bubbles.

Fillet of a fursnake,

In the caldron boil and bake;

Eye of demon and wing of skeeter,

Wool of bat and tongue of cheater,

Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,

Midge's leg and a horsefly's wing,

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Cast by White Witches on the Double.

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With a last chant, the fire died, and from the cauldron flew a swarm of stinging and biting insects. Wasps as long as a finger and mosquitoes as big as birds, along with flying horrors that Ozzy couldn't identify. Titania's face was glowing with excitement, "Wow, one of my best curses yet. It just shows what a quality cauldron can do. I haven't let loose with something this destructive in ages."

But then, she turned, a worried look on her face, to Suzette, "I mean, I'm happy to do my share to protect the innocent. Like any good, white witch would. "

Suzette patted her on the back, "Don't worry about it. The magic was dark and nasty, and made my teeth hurt, but it's the intent that counts here. You're using a curse to kill a few barbarians and slow down that charge. No different than tossing fireballs. It's what's in your heart that counts. I mean, you were always worried about protecting these fine soldiers, right? That was foremost in your head, and not just a desire to murder people."

Titania looked at her strangely, then nodded, "Of course. I'm the protective sort of girl now. Hadn't a thought in my head about hurting anyone unless I had to."

The swarm had no such compunctions. The large insects landed on half-naked barbarians and their horses and began biting and stinging. Horses went wild and began bucking off their riders, bolting in every direction. The riders had been barely in control of their mounts before, addled by drugs and magic. They were thrown to the ground, some trampled, some slapping at the stinging swarm. But most staggered up, fixated on sating the murderous rage filling them. They charged straight at the wall of wagons in front of them.

Titania had watched with glee as her spell performed better than she'd hoped. She started to gloat, then stopped and said meekly, "Yep, lots of concern. Oodles of concern. All I'm thinking about is being a good little witch and saving these people from being slaughtered by those nasty barbarians. I'd never summon a murderous swarm for anything but doing good."

Suzette grinned at her, "It's wonderful to see you learning to be a kind and caring person."

"That's me, kind and caring."

Suzette looked at the small army charging them. "Well, you sit here and think good thoughts. I'm going to help Ozzy slaughter these guys. I need to let off a little steam after a hectic week, and these guys have volunteered."

Titania's eyes narrowed, "What about all this 'good thoughts' nonsense, then?"

"Oh, easy. Those are the bad guys. We're the good guys. Heroes saving the Empire from the Evil Winter Invaders. Want to join me?"

Titania pulled the axe from her belt, "And here I thought trying to walk the path of the White Witch would be boring." She screamed, the axe screamed, and the half-dead barbarians screamed. Titania charged at them, her short legs having to take four steps to Suzette's two, or Ozzy's one.

The Butcher was growing, giving the oncoming warriors something easy to focus on. "Yo mama was so ugly, they put her with the baboons in the zoo, until the baboons complained. Yo mama so fat she thinks gravy is a beverage. I saw yo mama downtown, she fell down, and they had to bring in a crane to get her back on her feet. Yo mama so stupid, when the judge said 'order in the court' she asked for fries and a shake."

His words might have been strange, but the laughter and disdain behind them were not. The surviving eighty-seven cubs ran at the Butcher. Some were changing as they ran, fur growing on their bodies, faces becoming bestial, and fingernails becoming sharp claws. The magic that bound the tribe took hold, Ozzy's insults making sure they reached the level of rage that their Jarl had hoped for. Watching from two hundred feet away, he laughed as he saw all of the cubs begin to change.

"Damn, that was a good batch of loco brew. This is going to be a slaughter."

And it was.

Ozzy reached his full height and began to swing his hog slicer in wide arcs around him, lopping off heads and severing bodies in two. Backed by his huge strength and mass, flesh and bones parted like paper. They swarmed over him, stabbing, biting, and clawing, but he ignored them and kept swinging. And all the while, he insulted their mothers, keeping them focused on himself. Suzette and Titania were on the flanks, taking out one victim after another. Titania swung her axe like she was cutting down small trees. Every swing hit, and every swing killed, the murderous artifact glowing red and screaming, finally allowed to reap the living as it had in ancient times.

Suzette darted in and out of combat, stabbing with poisoned silver daggers as her shadowy hounds severed hamstrings and watched her back. The poison was so far above what a Tier one warrior could endure that the wounds rotted immediately, and flesh swelled black before the venom hit their hearts. She left a trail of dying warriors behind her as she circled around Ozzy, thinning the herd.

Jarl Brohk watched them die, holding back his men. The cubs were dead, either way. Outmatched or not, they had failed the tribe. But they had drawn out the true threats. The Empire had laid an ambush, sending its heroes. Killing this half-giant would be sweet, and when he ate the giant's heart, he'd add the monster's strength to his own. The Valkyries flanking the giant would share the same fate. Each one was cutting through a cub with every strike. He turned to his men.

"The giant is mine. Kill the women or capture them and drag them home to have your sons. We slaughter the rest. Leave these nags, they'll only slow us down. Are we ready to kill?!!"

The warriors around him, veterans of many fights, were close to losing themselves in their rage. Only the Jarl's will held them back. Now, they felt his will moving them to fury. They leaped from their horses and began to run at the giant, changing as they went. Some gaining fur and claws, others becoming true beasts the size of a northern grizzly.

On top of a wagon, Ernest turned to his friend Bertrand, "I think today is brought to us by the letter B."