Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 139

and bards. Today is a good day to die.”
The warg did not respond immediately. It seemed to
be contemplating Gamying’s words or perhaps it was
communicating the information to its lycanthrope.
Then it howled at the top of its voice. It was a long,
piercing howl that sent shivers of fear through the
three men. Seconds later, responses began to echo
from afar. Gamying and Aglaral readied themselves
for battle. There seemed little hope of victory, but if
they could hold the doorway until dawn, perhaps the
wargs would fall back and give them chance to rest.
Manfred snored on, oblivious to the unfolding drama.
Kris was now so white that he could have been mistaken for an albino. He quivered in terror, but drew
his sword. He looked from Gamying to the wargs and
wondered which he feared the most.
The next few seconds or minutes seemed like hours.
The wargs watched and waited for the signal from
their leader. When it came, it was in a blurred flurry
of fur and fangs.
Snarls and howls
filled the air.
Gamying and
Aglaral stood their
ground, blades
working methodically to keep
the wargs at bay.
When they fell
back, three wargs
lay dead at the
doorway. Several
others retreated to
lick their wounds.
Gamying and
Aglaral collapsed
to the floor to recover their breath.
The fire was almost burned out. Manfred slept on.
Kris was cowering in a foetal position at the back of
the hut. “Are you hurt?” Gamying asked Aglaral.”
“Only a few scratches,” replied Aglaral.
“We will need to get them treated. Warg scratches

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are notorious for becoming infected. It’s still a while
before dawn. They will attack again soon. Perhaps the
dead will form a barrier to protect us.”
“What about him?” Aglaral gestured towards the cowering Kris.
“I’m afraid there is no treatment for cowardice.”
Gamying spat in Kris’s direction. “That infection has
taken too great a hold. It will m