Lupus Magnus. A Nine Swords tale - Chapter 3 - the real deal

[ArcyCiern]

Greetings, Swords.

Chapter 3 for your enjoyment, so please - enjoy.

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Lupus Magnus. A Nine Swords tale - Chapter 3

The setting sun was casting its penultimate rays upon the castle of Wewelsburg as it slowly descended towards the Western horizon. The building stood on a hill overlooking a small village below, a fortress that seemed ancient and immovable. Its history was long and dark. Its walls stood witness to acts and rituals that have left a mark upon the stone and mortar as much as on the people who performed them. Wewelsburg was one of those places that had a soul of their own and more often than not one could experience a feeling of dread looking at the sinister silhouette upon the hill. Not sinister due to its form but because of the ominous secrets it kept chained within.

The inhabitants of the village used to gaze on the hill in fear, uncertain of what the castle would throw down upon the Earth. They instinctively felt that the world they lived in held many secrets – secrets that should not be unveiled. But then it changed. After the infamous Thule association had left the keep almost 70 years before, a group of silent men and women in red-and-white uniforms arrived and took over the castle. The village dwellers did not know who they were exactly, but for the very first time in as long as any-one could remember the stone figure above emanated hope, not despair.

Durendal stood at the northern tower’s battlements and observed a black shape quickly closing in through the air. The tower was the only one with a flat roof; the other two proudly wore baroque domes, and thus was the only one that could be fitted with a helicopter pad. “They’re coming” the commander said, arms crossed. “Yup” confirmed Sonno, both of her hands pressing down on her pink Crocodile Dundee hat. No way was she going to let it fly away. A few moments later the helicopter hovered over the tower for a few seconds and then slowly descended. Even from a few metres away, the machine was barely audible. Nine Swords kept their traditions strong, but didn't shy away from using cutting-edge technology either.

Katelin and the rest of the squad stepped out the craft. Aberlour helped Floryn a bit, but the bad joker’s leg had already healed significantly. “What happened, Floryn?” asked Sonno playfully stepping towards them “Had a drop-bear fall on you?” she grinned teasingly. Floryn looked back at her, tired and unamused. “I realise that being in the right hemisphere can mess with your head, but try to act like a normal person and not a Kiwi” he said with spite in his voice. He was exhausted. The wound and the flight had taken their toll and he was not interested Sonno’s snide remarks. “I’m Australian, you stomp!” she barked half-angered and half-surprised by Floryn’s sharp response.

“Let it go, Sonno. He’s been through a lot. Let him rest first.” Durendal then turned to Katelin and took his wife’s hands in his. “Tired?” he asked quietly with tenderness in his voice as he looked into her eyes. He smiled and put her arms around him. They embraced for a moment. Then the commander turned to the others. “Sonno, help Aberlour get Floryn to the infirmary. Chaos and Mel, Antoon and Kisshoten are already waiting for you in the library. Give them all the data you've gathered and then get some rest too. You deserve it. We’ll have a debriefing later.” “Gotcha, Boss” said Chaosetor. Mellified simply nodded.

“Aww! Hey, watch it!” moaned Floryn. “Sorry! My bad!” responded Sonno in a definitely non-apologetic tone. “Called me a Kiwi” she muttered under her breath “I’ll show him a Kiwi”.


“Home, sweet outpost” murmured Aberlour as he entered his chamber. The castle used by the Nine Swords as a base of operations in the region had recently been seeing more and more Templars staying for longer periods of time due to the suspicious operations conducted mostly by the Phoenicians. Abe was one of the most frequent guests and as such had been assigned his own quarters, not unlike the rest of his squad. The cabal prided themselves on the prowess of their warriors but the group led by Katelin in Romania were the best of the best – the Nine Swords’ special forces. Not in name, but definitely in skill.

Aberlour laid his weapons reverently on the table, the rest of gear dropped on the chair standing nearby. The last rays of light gently caressed the battle-axe’s edge throwing eerie reflections on the walls. The Templar sat heavily on the bed that stood against the wall opposite the door and sighed rubbing the scar on his cheek. “Another close call” he muttered.
Although his history with werewolves was far from pleasant, Abe’s scars were only skin-deep. He wasn't traumatised by the occurrence he had told Floryn about. If anything, the whole thing made him stronger and more determined. His friends liked to joke that Abe was like coal – he did well under pressure and there was much truth in that jest of questionable quality. He was definitely not the kind of man who would wallow in his feelings. He observed, he analysed and he drew conclusions. And the conclusion from that patrol in Poland was simple: he needed to get better at killing werewolves.

Aberlour looked at the book quietly lying on his pillow. When he tackled a problem he liked to start with the basics. And when it came to lycanthropes you couldn't get more basic than Sabine Baring-Gould’s “The Book of Were-Wolves”. Having read it, and many other sources on the subject, many times, he had become the cabal’s resident lycantropologist. Abe opened the book and started reading yet again although he knew most of it by heart. “I shall never forget the walk I took one night in Vienne…” were the first words on the page.

“Floryn! Floryn! Time for your sponge bath! I've brought brand-new sandpaper!” Sonno announced her arrival as she waltzed into Floryn’s chamber. Although the anima coursing in his veins and arteries greatly precipitated his recovery he was still relatively weak and definitely grumpy. “Go away!” he snarled from under a big heap of blankets and pillows angrily accentuating each word. “Oh, pull yourself together, Bloomy! I know playing “I’m a bag of potatoes” is fun but we’re going to have the meeting with the boss soon and you don’t want to look like an actual bag of potatoes, do you now?” she finished with a patronizing grin. “Mhoouu…” came a resigned muffled groan. “What was that, Bloomy?” she put her hand to her ear theatrically.

“No!” snapped Floryn as his head sprung from between the covers. “And don’t call me “Bloomy”!”. “Serves you right, Bloomy! That’s for calling me a Kiwi! You hurt me! I've got feelings, you know…” she pouted ostensibly. “You don’t have feelings” he looked at her with cold reproach “You've got your shotgun”. “Well, that’s true, I suppose” she smiled insolently. “Anyroad, the boss sent me to see how you were doing and I must sadly say it’s business as usual here” she raised her eyebrow as she scrutinized the sorry state the chamber was in. Floryn was no pedant.

“You know that “chamber” and “chamber pot” are two different things and not interchangeable?” she asked, no hint of humour in her voice. “Oh hardy, harr, harr…” muttered Floryn as he stood up. A barely noticeable grimace of pain appeared on his face when he put weight on his injured leg. “Don’t rush it!” said Sonno. “I’m fine!” he waved her away irritated but couldn't help but notice genuine concern in her voice. Suddenly he felt embarrassed by her presence and his attitude. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a few minutes” he said quietly avoiding her gaze. “Sure” she responded as she also averted her eyes.

Durendal and Katelin were sitting at the long table in the meeting chamber when the others started arriving. Aberlour, Mellified and Chaosetor came first and took their places at the table. Floryn assisted by Sonno appeared a few minutes later. Those few hours of respite they had been given were not much but they all looked better and even a few jokes were thrown back and forth as the Templars waited for Kisshoten.

Finally, she came into the room and, having closed the door behind her, sat down at Durendal’s left. “Swords, let me once again say how proud the cabal is of you and how happy that you were able to return to us with just a few scratches” he said tossing Floryn a quick smile. Flo smiled back “A few scratches and now a lot of itches” he quipped. “That’s how it goes – from stitches to itches” the commander responded with a matter-of-fact expression. The room laughed.

“Thanks to the intelligence you've brought we were able to put all the pieces together and we now have a much clearer picture of what we’re facing. Antoon is still analysing the details but I've asked Kiss to walk us through what we currently know” he nodded to Kisshoten and sat down.

Kiss stood up. “I think it would best if I started with a recap of how we've got to this point since, as we know now, this ties into a few matters that had been on our radar before you went into action” she cleared her throat. “About a year ago we started noticing unusual Phoenician activity” she started. “I thought Phoenicians dealt in unusual” commented Chaos. “That’s true” Kiss responded and went on “But normally they just keep to stealing and smuggling various items and artefacts, not necessarily of occult nature. They've got ties to most criminal organizations west of India and in both Americas. We monitor their activities just to be safe and we can usually curb their ambitions when it is required. For a year now, however, we have been noticing some new patters in their behaviour. They used to…” Kiss paused for a moment “acquire, move and then sell the acquisition. Now, some of the items don’t find new owners. Particularly when it comes to robotics and electronics as well as biomedical sciences, broadly speaking.”

“In order to gather more information, Mellified was sent on a covert mission about 4 months ago” Durendal interjected when Kisshoten reached for a glass of water. The group looked at Mel with interest. “So that’s how you knew how to operate that mech.” surmised Floryn. “That and the fact that I’m super smart” she responded raising her chin comically. “I was able to retrieve some interesting data, but my mission turned out to be a little bit too overt…” her voice trailed off as she drew her head between he shoulders in simulated embarrassment. Quizzical looks went towards her and, receiving no answer, on to Durendal. “The explosion in the chemical factory on the outskirts of Budapest” he said calmly. Eyes widened. “Well, I always knew you had a fiery personality under that thick layer of good manners” announced Sonno. “True that” Aberlour concurred. "It seems that didn't stop them, though, as we could see". "That's not our priority right now. Kiss, please continue" said Durendal.

Kisshoten coughed and proceeded with the debriefing. “We knew they were up to something but couldn't put our finger on it. Until one our agents contacted Dr. Boian Kavescu during an investigation. Some incentives here, some implied threats there, plus the fact that Dr. Kavescu started growing paranoid after he had learned a few of the more gruesome details of what he was working on and he was more than happy to offer his full cooperation.” “So, what was he working on?” asked Chaos, “What is this “Lupus Magnus Project”?”.

“It’s basically something from a bad horror movie” Katelin entered the conversation “The problem is that it is real and, from what we've learned, viable” she finished and looked at Durendal. “As crazy as it may sound” he looked at the gathered Templars. “It’s a mutagenic virus engineered to turn humans into werewolves.” The revelation was received in silence. It did sound insane and ridiculous, but they all knew that the cabal’s commander was not a man who would joke at a time like this. If he was proclaiming this virus existed, then it did exist. And it was dangerous.

“So… they’re trying to create a werewolf army?” said Floryn uncertainly. “If they are, it’s going to get messy.” Antoon had just entered the chamber “Very messy”. “You've finished the analysis?” asked Durendal and Antoon nodded “Let’s hear it”. Antoon put a few printouts on the table in front of him as he started to speak. “The main problem with this virus is that it poses an enormous threat as a…” he hesitated” conventional biological weapon, so to speak. They tested it on humans” he paused to let the information sink in. The atmosphere in the chamber suddenly became much heavier. “It’s airborne and extremely virulent. Virtually all subjects became infected. Some with as little contact as sitting 20 metres apart. And all of them died. Violently. I've seen a few recordings” he added gravely. “There were some partial mutations that left the corpses disfigured with distinct canine features, about…” he checked his notes” 30% of them. The rate of full transformations was about 3% but they also died, they just suffered longer. A lot longer” Antoon lowered his gaze.

“3%? How many people did they test it on?” asked Sonno incredulously. “Enough to get results sufficiently precise to determine that” Antoon’s tone was solemn. “If the virus is released in its current form we will not have a werewolf army “ he looked at Floryn seriously “We will have a holocaust”.

Nobody uttered a sound. The silence was almost palpable. It seemed as if the castle itself held its breath aghast. Shock and bewilderment pervaded the air. Floryn and Sonno looked at each other uncertainly. Chaos exhaled audibly. Abe and Mel just sat in their chairs. Katelin closed her eyes for a long moment and then turned them to her husband.

Durendal’s cold gaze seemed fixed on something she could not see. His entire face was an expression of determination. As she looked into his eyes, Kate could almost see decisions being made with all the willpower and purpose of a Templar cabal commander.

Everybody focused on Uragon as he slowly stood up and leaned towards the table putting his hands on its surface. His every move was filled clinical precision and cold resolve. “Swords, our path is clear before us. It is time to unleash the sword and the cross. We are the shield that protects the world of men from the horrors lurking in the dark. We are the sword that smites evil with righteous wrath. We will show no mercy for we have seen that our enemy shows none. For the name “Templars”. For all we represent. For everybody and everything we hold dear“ he reached and took his wife’s hand in his own. ”Nine Swords are going to war!”

Katelin noticed a gust of wind ramming at the windows. She heard a rumble of thunder closing in. “Funny” she thought as she smiled almost imperceptibly. She had thought that they would have to face that storm and clash with it on the battlefield but she was wrong. It was them who were the storm. A blizzard of blades and bullets ready to crush any-one and anything foolish enough to oppose them. And they were coming. Fast.

[Rick Fortune]

applauds!

[Floryn]

I will let the reviews speak for themselves.


"Absorbing, expertly written." - New York Times

"A solid thriller, vividly imagined and genuinly frightening." - Atlanta Journal / Constitution

"A really gripping narrative, full of suspense and unexpected turns, which will keep you hooked." - Evening Standard

"ArcyCiern deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Michael Crichton and Stephen King." - Scotland on Sunday

"A taut, crafty story that beautifully blends facts and fiction into a compelling tale about Nine Swords." - Chicago Tribune

[Katelin]

Loved it

[Mellified]

Smashing! And there's more to come!

[Rick Fortune]

You really do need to watch out for those Phoenician Drop bears though, Floryn.

[Krullos]

awaiting the next installment

[Antanahe]

Great as always Arcy, you have a nice writing style.

[ArcyCiern]

Thank you, Anta. It's really nice to hear that, especially when I used to think I could not write at all:). All this positive feedback has really boosted my confidence as a scribbler.
<scribble><scribble>*winks at Floryn*