A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 28

Valethalassa took a step to follow Ian, but from across the street Ban'Koliath's cry of pain demanded her attention. She turned to see that the minotaur was losing his battle. And behind her she could hear the other werewolf stirring. She made her choice. She took Ian at his word and left him to enact his plan; she would help Ban'Koliath.

In an instant, she sheathed her daggers and replaced it with a petite throwing blade. Drawn from a hidden slit inside her belt. Centuries of practice culminated in a barely noticeable flick of the wrist, which sent the knife flying faster than any eye could follow. It struck Red-y in the neck, providing a much-needed reprieve for the minotaur.

Ban'Koliath knew it would take more than a dagger to stop the werewolf. He brought his hammer to bear on the Red-y's left side. He was rewarded with a bubbling wet howl and the sound of cracking ribs as the werewolf doubled over.

It was a short-lived victory, werewolves were notorious for their regenerative capabilities. It was the prime attraction to submitting to the agony of becoming one. And Red-y was an old werewolf. Ribs cracked and popped back into place. The pain fed into its rage and its bloodshot eyes narrowed to slits of pure hatred. All of which was directed at Ban'Koliath. Faster than any blow before Red-y swiped out and knocked his hammer from his grip.

The heavy crack of his weapon against the pavement brought about a moment of clarity for Ban'Koliath, he let out a long slow breath and time slowed with it. He felt fear, anger, and fury ebb away. A sense of peace settling over him. He watched as the werewolf's muscles knotted, its claws extended, and he knew the blow would end him. Ban'Koliath faced his death with the serenity he had spent a lifetime mastering.

Then Valethalassa joined the melee.

Elegant fury. It was the only way to describe the onslaught that Valethalassa unleashed upon the auburn werewolf. While Ban'Koliath considered himself a formidable opponent, Valethalassa was in a class of her own. Not once did the werewolf even come close to hitting her. Each time Red-y slashed with his claws she was long gone, delivering another deep slash to the fur covered beast's vitals. And she never missed.

Each strike drove Red-y to further heights of bloodlust. And, like all creatures who succumbed to that lust, he forgot all logic to mindlessly attack his target. More throwing daggers appeared in vital spots and soon he was bleeding from dozens of wounds. Red-y's steps became sluggish as his blood continued to pour out onto the cold pavement. Ban'Koliath blindly felt for his hammer and watched in awe as Valethalassa tore the werewolf apart.

An amber eye snapped open as the heart pumped blood once more. The fervor of bloodlust had ceased, for now. Black-y got back to his feet and prepared his next move in this rare moment of clarity. Its glance settled onto the jewelry shop. The scent of the one who had injured him directing him that way.

Mal wasn't going to let him get that far. Forgotten in the heat of battle, the shadow wolf had watched Black-y, patiently waiting. Now he decided was the time to strike. Using the many shadows cast by street lamps overhead Mal lived up to his namesake. He faded in and out of sight, always using the shadows to appear where least expected. Mal bit, clawed, and tore into Black-y. The werewolf took little in the way of damage, but he also failed to land a single strike on Mal. The smaller wolf waged a war of attrition, making the monster battle for every step it took.

When Ian emerged from the store, he beheld an awesome sight. Across the street, Vale was single-handedly battling an opponent that Yesterday-Ian had believed too terrifying to exist. And she was winning. Easily. Her moves were hypnotic to watch as she danced around Red-y delivering strike after strike. But Ian had his own fight to win as a harsh growl from Black-y drew Ian back to the task at hand. Off to one side Ian spotted Mal panting heavily a fair amount of, what Ian hoped was, the werewolf's blood dripped from his muzzle.