Chapter 17. Who let the dogs out?

Shortly thereafter, I left Alcatia by ship, as part of a dozen soldiers to be posted in Signar, a small seaside town on the eastern middle sea.  The soldiers were to be permanently garrisoned there, but my assignment was to report to the commander for "special duty."

Special duty was the term used for every assignment I ever had with the Alcatian Guard.  Although I held the rank of cadet and was paid accordingly, even then I was a special case.    When I went to Signar, I carried a the sword I'd used during training and wore as close as was practical to a Guard's uniform, the largest dress tunic available, belted at the waist with an  Alcatian Guard emblem sewn on it.


Special duty,  in this case, turned out to consist of tagging along with two man patrols outside the town and garrison, which was a small stone castle over looking the town and beach below.  It was pretty dull work. My first impression, that I'd been assigned to an easy "make work" sort of job as my first assignment, wasn't dispelled until, after we started  out at dusk,  I noticed my companions seemed a little uneasy as the sun set.


I asked if we were watching for a  Kargellian attack, and Jed and Jim, my two companions both looked at me like I was a simpleton.

"Kargellians don't attack at night, Fiona."  Jed said.  "Officially, I suppose we're watching for them too, but realistically, they'd come by ship and we'd be better off staying up on the cliffs.   Kargellians don't run off with single children and they don't kill livestock.  What we're watching for is on four legs."


I probably looked confused, which I was, and it only got worse when Jim joined in.

"It could be on two legs, ya know.  Its not like they can't take human form" Jim said.


Over the  course of the night, Jim and Jed argued over what they knew and didn't know about werewolves until even my curiosity couldn't keep me interested.   Apparently, the mountains north of Signar were long rumored to be home to a pack of them, and the townspeople were insistent that the string of missing children and missing and dead animals was the work of one or more of the shifters.

I'd heard tales of men who could turn into bears, of course, but they were pretty far fetched, along with this new idea of men who turned into wolves.  I started out skeptical, and to be honest, remained that way, even after we found the half eaten carcass of a sheep with wolf tracks all around it.

I wanted to follow the tracks, and sort of assumed that Jim and Jed would know how to do that, but they looked at me like I was a moron again, and said, even if they did know how to track in the dark, they weren't about to do it.  We'd report the thing when we got done with our patrol and let the commander tell us what to do next.  Of course, if I wanted to try it, they were alright with it, but Jim asked me to leave me my purse just in case I didn't come back.
I was pretty pissed off and even tried following the tracks for a few feet, until they disappeared into the dark forest.


The next morning, I spoke to the Commander, and he agreed that tracking the wolf was a good idea, although it was not a task he was willing to send any of his real soldiers to do.  He said something about a wild wolf chase, but, after a few moments' rambling about how understaffed he was and how pathetic his men were at tracking, gave me the name of a  local man in town, a retired hunter named Conn and told me he'd pay a reasonable fee if the man helped out.


Conn turned out to be a gruff old guy in his early fifties with a nasty scar running down his face and a a lazy eye that always seemed to be looking my way, even when he was looking the other.  He was skeptical about werewolves, not because he didn't believe in them, but because he did, and didn't think it likely that they'd be hunting so near the coast or close to humans.  Conn even claimed to have run across them before, and said they'd warned him not to hunt in their lands.


But he knew the father of one of the missing children, and, after some haggling over the fee, agreed to help me at least look for more signs of wolves.  Then he asked how many soldiers we'd be taking, and when I said just me, he looked at me like I was an idiot again (I got that a lot it  that week) and thought for a moment. I thought he'd change his mind, but he didn't.  He asked for double his fee, reasoning that while a troop of soldiers would never be able to track down a pack of wolves, a party of two might just either succeed or, more likely, be more suitable prey.  Given the greater risk, he wanted more money.  We haggled again, and in the end, I only paid one and a half times his earlier price.


By the time we got out to the clearing, the carcass had a lot less meat on it, but Conn looked around, tasted  some droppings and said they were wildcat droppings, although he was sure this was no wildcat kill.  He started walking and I followed, watching him track.  It was really tedious, going in one direction then doubling back when he lost a trail, but eventually he led us to a stream and announced he was sure the wolf had crossed here, pointing at what I guess was a pawprint in the mud.


On the other side, however, he was stumped.  We wandered around the stream bed for a couple of hours, until, when night came, he got a funny look on his face and announced he'd start again in the morning.  We built a fire, bedded down, and I slept, as I usually do, pretty soundly for a couple of hours.  Then the howling woke us both up.


Conn held up his hand, listened, and silently indicated by counting fingers that he heard three separate animals. Then, after awhile, he shook his head and made a circling sign with his fingers, mouthing the words, "they're circling us."


Then, abruptly he stood up and put more wood on the fire, kneeling by it and looking up at me as I stood, looking out into the darkness with my hand on my sword.


"That's a mighty big blade you've got there, lass, but I doubt its going to be enough for three of these sort.  I'd be sure not to go stumbling off into the woods if ye do see something, mind you, cause it might just be their plan.  Wolves'll draw their prey apart from the pack, but if these are shifters, they'll likely be even more sneaky.  Our best hope is they'll check us out and leave us alone.  Don't be stupid.  You want some tea?"


To my amazement, Conn started to boil water, and while I caught him looking nervously out in the darkness, he really did start to make tea.


"You've got to be kidding me, tea?" I asked.

Conn smiled.


"Mayhap one of them will  join us for a cup.  If not, I want some before I breathe my last.


Soon after that, I spotted movement and glowing eyes, deep in the woods.  I was sure it saw me, standing silhouetted in the firelight, but it disappeared and I heeded Conn's words and stayed where  I could at least see what might come at me.  Then behind me, I heard a branch break, turned and spotted another.


Conn was, by this time, sipping his coffee and murmuring some sort of prayer, but I'd had enough . I drew my sword and called out.


"Come here you mangy mutts" I said loudly.


 Needless to say, they didn't. For hours, it seemed they circled us, and I even started to pick up Conn's bow, but he talked me out of it.


Finally, they seemed to have left, or at least stopped moving, and Conn and I silently waited for the sun to come up. The next morning, Conn packed up, and when I asked him which way to go to find the wolves, he shook his head and said he was going home. He pointed up to a tree and there, carved into the wood were the words, "go home."


"I'm pretty sure nothing on four feet carved that" he said, "so if you don't mind, pay me for the day, and I'll show you the way home."


We argued for awhile, and finally, I did pay him, but I didn't go with him.  Instead,I convinced him  (for an extra charge of course) to go back to the garison and tell them what we'd seen and that I intended to get to find the beasts myself.  Conn shook his head and wandered on back towards town.