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The storm was only slightly muffled by the branches as we dropped into the woods fifty yards behind the werewolf pack. The wolves turned at Ben’s shout and returned to us, soaking wet and confused.
“What happened?” Ben asked me as he slid off Deor’s back.
I nodded up at the sky. “The storm got worse.” A roaring thunder overhead shook the earth. “See?”
“The Matriarch is no doubt behind this,” Cal mused from atop Deor’s furry self. “Our flight from their camp would not have gone unreported for long. They would have guessed we sought to reach Eall and will use the storm to block us.”
“Well, I have something to say about that,” Dreda spoke up as she rolled up her sleeves and marched forward.
“What are you going to do?” I asked her.
“I’m going to find a clearing and deal with this mess.”
“The meeting clearing isn’t far off,” Deor spoke up.
Dreda paused and half-turned to us. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving!”
I climbed aboard Deor and Dreda hopped onto another werewolf, and we set off again. The storm had gathered strength during our short chat and the wind now broke through the trees to lash us with bush branches. The trail became a sloppy mess of mud and leaves. Every werewolf lost his footing at one time or another, and even their claws did little to help.
I was very glad when the way opened and we found ourselves in the clearing Ben and I had earlier sought. A ring of flagstones like those around the Pit encircled a large platform in the middle. Dreda slid off her werewolf and hurried over to the center of the platform.
Ben and the rest of us moved over to stand on the edges of the platform and a thought struck me. “Why didn’t you get rid of the storm before?” I pointed out.
Dreda bowed her head and rubbed her hands together. “You shouldn’t mix magics without knowing what you’re up against. Now that I know who I’m battling it shouldn’t be too hard to get a good grip on her scrawny throat and throttle the curse magic out of her.”
Dreda raised her arms above her head and closed her eyes. A hailstorm of rain pelted her, but she didn’t so much as flinch as a few words passed her lips.
“Oh god of storms, hear my prayer. Turn this fury on that stinking mare!”
I choked on a laugh but the results were very serious. The puddles that surrounded her shot upward in glistening streams and flew into the sky. The columns of droplets arched high over our heads before they arched downward far into the woods.
The moment they vanished into the canopy, the storm about us faltered a little. The wind died and the rain was not so cold and pounding. That moment was brief, however, and the wind picked up worse than ever. A fierce gust struck so hard that Dreda was nearly blown over. She stumbled to one side and Ben and I both leapt forward where we caught her before she fell.
Dreda’s face was a mixture of fury and self-scolding. “I’m fine!” she snapped as she righted herself. “I won’t let that hag get the best of me, not when she’s made Werd suffer so!”
Dreda marched into place and threw up her arms. Her voice roared above the wind. “Oh god of storms, hear my prayer. Turn MY fury on that stinking MARE!”
Every drop of water on the ground and in the air heeded her call this time. The countless sparkling droplets shot up and crashed into those that were descending. It was a short battle as Dreda’s fury tore apart the falling rain and shoved the storm upward. It was like watching a window shade be pulled up by a maniac who had a hatred for them.
The storm and all its parts was pushed into the sky and crashed into the black clouds. Lightning bolts clashed and thunder boomed, and then everything came to a sudden conclusion in one gigantic explosion. The shockwave blasted outward above our heads and cleared the skies of the tempest, revealing blinking stars.
A sound arose from the woods. It was the cry of a defeated, screeching woman. The noise made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Dreda dropped her arms and glared up at the sky as the sound died away. She gave a nod and swaggered over to us. “Well, that should take care of the rain, at least long enough for us to get that hag in chains.”
Cal smiled down at her from the back of his werewolf and patted the manacles he had strapped to his waist. “I have just the chains.”
“Then let’s hurry on,” Ben insisted as he took my hand. “We now have a good idea of where they could be.”
We climbed back aboard our werewolf transportation and took off in the direction where the first crash of Dreda’s magic. Our path took us through the trees to another encampment which was in almost as much disarray as the last one Cal and I had left. This one was still occupied, but people hurried to and fro packing up wagons that were parked near a new road.
Our group didn’t get too close a look at what they were packing other than trunks before burly werewolves leapt out of the brush in front of us. The fiends snapped their jaws as their leader came to the forefront. Gasric.
The traitorous werewolf was the worse for wear. The skeletons had left gashes in all their fur and there was a particularly nice one across Gasric’s cheek. He curled his snout back in a snarl when he caught sight of Cal and me.
“Tear them to shreds!” he shouted to his men before they all charged at us.
We humans hopped off our rides and let the wolves go at it. Gasric’s men were stronger but they were no match for the speed and cunning of Deor’s group. The lopsided battle raged on as the rest of us skirted around the fight and into the camp proper. Some of Gasric’s men tried to flee, but they were stopped by the sudden arrival of even more werewolves led by a gray wolf about a head taller than even the burly mountain clan leader himself.
