* * * * *
Rob was in agony. His chest felt like it was on fire, and each time he took a breath, it felt like a blade was stabbing into his lungs. He fought on in desperation, fending off attacks, always on the back foot, and making few strikes of his own. It was now a battle for survival. “How has it come to this?” he thought as he stared into the blood red eyes before him. Feigning a thrust Rob took a step forward. The werewolf leapt back, away from the blade, then advanced again, straight into a powerful overhand cut which sliced off an arm. The creature howled in agony, bright red blood spurting from the terrible wound.
“Hurts don’t it?” grunted Rob through clenched, blood-stained teeth.
The beast roared with ferocity and charged. Rob brought the claymore up to defend himself. The powerful jaw closed upon the blade and tore it from the Highlander’s grip, the weapon clattering upon the cobbles. Roaring in fury and desperation, Rob slammed a right cross into the werewolf’s face, snapping off one of its fangs. Shaking its head, the beast snarled and towered over the Scotsman, who was now clutching the slimy, six inch fang, ready to use it as a weapon. Moving with lightning speed, it bit down upon Rob’s shoulder. He felt bones break under the pressure. Screaming in agony, the Highlander fell to the ground, a large chunk of flesh missing where his shoulder used to be. His right arm hung beside him.
Swallowing the flesh with lust, it moved in for the kill, crouching down over Rob. Beady eyes staring into his, Rob prepared for death.
“Ya better kill me laddie,” muttered Rob. “Or I’ll take you apart piece by piece,” although, in his current state, he had no idea how.
The werewolf leaned back and howled in victory. Growling, it came for him, jaw wider than Rob’s head, stinking breath upon his face. A gunshot rent the night air and the werewolf fell beside the Highlander, dead. Rob stared down at the lifeless beast, his heart thundering with fear and relief as he realised he was still alive.
He glanced up to see Matthew, the barkeep from the previous evening, standing in the near distance reloading a musket. He worked with a purpose, poured the powder down the muzzle, dropped in the ball, spat, rammed, brought the weapon to his shoulder and fired again. The bullet sliced the air with a soft hiss, missing the giant werewolf standing over Asger by less than an inch. The huge beast turned and charged at the newcomer, but Matthew paid it no heed, concentrating instead on reloading the musket. Pour, drop, spit, ram, fire. The bullet slammed into the werewolf’s chest, exiting in a burst of pink mist and tiny chunks of gore. The creature dropped to all fours and grunted. It was broken, its mighty power having departed with the bullet. It was not invincible after all. Matthew reloaded and approached.
“Christ almighty,” the barkeep said surveying the bloody scene.
Rex finished the third werewolf with a skilful stab of the rapier, before wiping the blade clean on its fur. “Indeed,” he agreed.
As Matthew was about to speak, the wounded creature at his feet roared, jaw open, fangs about to clamp down upon his leg. It would have left him amputated below the knee. Reacting, Matthew booted the thing in the face, took one pace back and fired point blank into its skull. Death was immediate. It lay on its side, maw open, the bullet having drilled a large hole through its forehead. Faint smoke, a remnant of burnt gunpowder, drifting from between its fangs.
“My thanks, Matthew,” said Rex, shaking the barkeep’s hand.
He moved first to Asger and checked the man was still breathing. Satisfied, he walked to Rob, who was still conscious, but his eyes were closed and he was groaning.
Matthew knelt beside the wounded Highlander. “Doesn’t get much worse,” he observed, looking at the terrible wound on Rob’s shoulder. He had seen similar wounds following battle. Death came, but only after days of agony.
“How’d you find us laddie?” Rob asked, looking at the barkeep.
“Those things ran straight past The Eagle and Rabbit. Couldn’t have them loose out in the town. Who knows what damage they might have done? Would have taken too long to raise The Watch, and they would have locked me away as a madmen sooner than help me. So I grabbed me musket and tried to track them. Took me a while. Wish I’d arrived sooner.”
“Let us carry him to your establishment,” said Rex, gesturing towards the Scotsman. “At least we can sterilise the wound there.”
Matthew nodded.
A loud groan signalled Asger was regaining consciousness. The Northman sat up and rubbed his head, squinting against the moonlight.
“Thank you ever so much for your help, Asger,” offered Rex as the Scandinavian climbed to his feet, holding a wall to regain his balance. “We would have been done for, if not for you old boy,” he added with sarcasm.
“Pleasure,” mumbled Asger stooping to regain what remained of his sword. He looked at the shattered blade and shook his head.
“I can walk,” said Rob, “help me up.”
Leaving his injured arm dangle by his side, the men used Rob’s left arm to help the Highlander to his feet. The group moved slow, taking almost an hour to reach The Eagle and Rabbit.