Chapter 16
Psychological Warfare
Tooth and Claw
Anton and Simon, plus twenty eight of the Homesteaders and all the babies, were still ten kilometres short of safety behind the walls of Algar Springs when the wolf pack caught up with them. The herd of cattle milled round in confusion, but not panic, as the wild wolves circled them, looking for an easy lunch. But Homestead cattle were lean mean beasts, and there were no easy pickings there, so the wolves sheered away from the menacing horns. The goats however, were scattering in all directions and the Homesteaders formed a defensive circle round the ox cart.
Anton narrowed his eyes against the noonday sun as he tried to estimate how many grey shapes were coming their way. “About twenty five?”
Joannie nodded. “Twenty three. More than enough, I think.”
“We’re in trouble Joan. See a way out?”
Joan shook her head slightly. “Sorry man, seen precious little since my Toledo was born, I’m afraid. It’s as if something’s blocking my senses.”
Anton looked quickly round the little group. “How many bows do we have?” he called loudly.
Only three hands went up. He grimaced, just four bows between them, including his. “OK. Archers together, spears to the front. Get formed up.”
They obeyed his orders without question, but knew that few of them would walk away from this hillside unscathed.
From the rooftops of Homestead, things did not look too good either.
“Look Jade,” said Ivy in disbelief, “They’ve got somebody.”
Jade looked like she was saluting as she shaded her eyes from the bright sunshine.
“Damn, damn and double damn! it’s Queenie. I thought she was in The Vine.”
In the centre of a group of wolves standing upright, Trudy and Karl were each side of Queenie, holding her firmly by the arms.
“Hello, humans, want to give up yet?” Alain’s voice boomed across the green. “I’m sure that we could come to some arrangement. Or I could do this of course.”
He casually swung his left arm and raked his clawlike nails across Queenie’s scalp. The watchers on the roof winced as she squealed in pain and fright, and blood coursed down her face, then Alain shouted again. “Come on you stupid hags, you know we’re going to win,” and his massive hand hovered over Queenie’s shoulder.
“Oh no,” said Ivy in despair, “there’s Betty,” and pointed to the right where another wolf was pushing Betty forward towards the group surrounding Alain.
“Lady above, what do we do Jade?”
Jade stared at Betty and her captor and furrowed her brow in concentration. She gave up the internal struggle between common sense and super sense and turned to Ivy.
There was a steely edge to her voice. “Go downstairs, get ready to charge them.”
Ivy looked at her in surprise, then turned, and as she ran down the stairs to warn the others to be ready to go, Jade spun round to face the taverna, cupped her hands and shouted across, “when they run, make every shot count,” then put an arrow to her bowstring. “get ready girls,” she said to her fellow archers, “it’s our turn.”
Betty had been directed into the group of waiting wolves by the lone wolf that didn’t quite walk right, or smell right either, and she suddenly crouched down into a fighters stance, and brought her hand from behind her back holding a small object which gave off a twinkling red glow. As Betty’s hand came round quickly in the short arc, Conrad was the first to die as the vampire sword claimed it’s first victim for a year. The wolves tried to get away from the red death, but as Denny started to lose control of the ‘tickly’ spot in her brain, the lone wolf at their rear lost it’s shape, and was seen to be wielding two short swords which soon matched the colour of Betty’s blade. Denny had assumed her proper shape again, but was still the same size and build as the altered wolves.
Earlier, Denny had overcome her conscience and pushed Robin into Betty’s apparently vacant mind. Now they were the bringers of death, and in their fearsome whirling presence, the wolves sought safer ground.
They broke and ran, and as they hurtled away from the demons of death in their midst, the doors of the taverna and the bakery burst open, and the villagers streamed out to meet them. The wild wolves looked on in confusion and if they thought about fighting, they didn’t consider it for long, and soon headed for the comfort of the woods beyond the river.
Over near Algar Springs, Sali Vorden was holding Toledo, Joannie Tulip’s baby. “Flipping cheek, I say. Hero of Ashers Farm I was, and they make me look after the kids. What do you say, Tolly?” The baby went “goo goo goo”, looked up into Sali’s eyes, giggled and kicked out excitedly. Sali frowned and looked down at her tiny charge. “Really?” She looked up in surprise to where Simon stood. “Really,” she repeated thoughtfully, and then went over to Joan who listened intently to her, alternately shaking, then nodding her head in agreement.
“Are you sure about this, Sali?” Simon asked. He was not entirely convinced that Sali was actually sane any more. Sali stared at him, “DO IT,” she commanded and Joan echoed her, “do it.” As Sali started to move away, she said to Simon, “put it on and follow me,” and still carrying Toledo she pushed her way through the women waiting for the bloody onslaught. At the front, she waited till the last possible moment before speaking, and as her voice took on a new sinister tone, a vague swirling shape seemed to fill the air around her.
“WOOOOLFY! WOOOOLFY! WHERE AAAARE YOU?”
The effect on the four leading wolves was electrifying, and the ordered advance of the wolf pack up the slight rise broke down in confusion, and the wild ones milled around as their masters uncertainty spread to them, but Ronald quickly regained his composure from the shock of the voice only recalled as part of a horror story.
“You can’t frighten us girly, you’re my dinner,” he shouted, then to his fellow grey companions, “move it you dog’s turds, get up there.”
They only just got started forward again when Sali pointed at them, “look Tolly, bad doggies.”
Toledo giggled again and waved. Sali beckoned Simon forward.
“Look wolfy, here’s my MAN,” and he too emerged from the ranks of women, dressed in his chefs white coat.
The four weird wolves were becoming decidedly worried about the odd scene in front of them, and Sheila growled to Basil, “There are no men. Are there?”
Then Sali said loudly, “man, show them your needle,” and Simon brought his hand from behind his back brandishing a kebab skewer, then walked slowly forward speaking in the deepest voice he could manage. “Hello wolfy, time for the needle.”
Even Ronald, who was second only to Alain the alpha male, gave a yelp and did a backward somersault in his efforts to avoid facing the wolves nemesis.
The wild wolves saw their two legged leaders in a new light and decided to find today’s meal somewhere else.
“Ladies, kill them,” Joan scream
ed, and the four archers loosed arrow after arrow after the fleeing pack. Fifteen wild ones made it across the valley to the safety of the trees, and three of those were wounded, but only Lucy was with them, Ronald, Basil and Sheila lay dead in the grass with four of the others.