The traveller wore a large coat over his black robes in an effort to stave off the water. His hood was pulled up over his head and his face was covered by a long beaked mask. The mask of a plague doctor.
The Doctor strode forward through the rain, his only concession to it’s incessant deluge was to slightly lower his head to avoid water running down in the inside of his mask. He’d heard about this season during his travels in these parts, the locals dubbed it aptly ‘God’s Weeping’, however he’d not quite believed the stories. It was supposed to keep up for weeks so the Doctor had no choice but to shoulder on through.
“This suites you,” Chimed a cheerful voice from upon his shoulder, “wet and bedraggled, thoroughly miserable. I can see why you chose to come this way.”
The Doctor didn’t reply, nor even turn to look at the speaker. He carried on walking past the rows of flooded fields filled with the strange grain that the people in the region lived off. It apparently needed huge amounts of space and water to grow properly, both of which available currently in huge quantities. The only thing breaking the sight of endless fields ahead was a single tree bowed wearily by the roadside.
The voice grumbled discontentedly, however the Doctor easily zoned it out. There was nothing on his shoulder. Out here, boots kicking up water as he advanced, he was completely alone.
A wet cough from underneath the tree snapped him from his thoughts.
Sat before him, back rested up against the trunk, an armoured man watched him. Or more, he looked like a man. He wore a mixture of leather and iron armour, brown droplets running down from the rain and coating of dirt. A sword was dug into the ground beside him, an odd weapon with one side flat and blunt and the other gleaming with a vicious sharpness. Although the face was not visible from standing, tufts of wet, matted fur were poking out of the open helmet.
Fur. It was a demi-human.
The Doctor looked around to make sure there was no one else, then quickly strode over and lowered himself to his knees beside his new found patient. A swift inspection revealed a deep cut to the side of the metal breastplate and with a hum of concentration he reached into his robes for a knife to cut away the leather around the wound.
As he turned back to his patient a hand snatched at his wrist. The Doctor span back around to be confronted with the murderous eyes of the wounded soldier.
“Get away from me.” The would be patient growled.
The Doctor held the glare evenly, replying in a firm voice. “I’m a doctor, I’m going to help you.”
“I don’t need any help!” Roared the man, shoving the Doctor’s arm away with surprising force. “Especially from your wretched kind, human!”
Steadying himself from the push, the Doctor carefully rose to his feet. He was no stranger to this sort of reaction from Demi’s, so with a weary sigh he reached behind his head and unfastened the clasps of his mask.
“Will you let me help you now?” He asked as the beaked mask fell away to reveal yet another beak and a black feathered face.
Ignoring the surprised grunt he quickly knelt back down and brought his knife back to the leather. There were no further complaints so he quite happily worked in silence for a very welcome change. Well as silent as could be in the middle of a rainstorm.
The lull didn’t last long though as his taciturn companion’s curiosity eventually bested him.
“What,” He asked, “in the nine bloody gates is a Crow face doctor doing this far east?”
The Doctor stifled another sigh. It was a fair question, he was quite the oddity even amongst his people. Especially amongst his people. He shrugged.
“I’m looking for something.” He said.
“Oh come on cone face! That’s the biggest non-answer I’ve ever heard.” The wounded man complained, his growling voice now seemed just to be the default state rather than explicit anger. “What are you looking for?”
The Doctor didn’t react to the odd jibe sent his way, but paused his work to consider. His tribe were gone, he did not hold onto hope of finding any of them. Their enemies were half a continent away, he would not find them out here.
“Absolution?” Suggested the small voice from his shoulder. “However fruitless that may be.”
The Doctor snapped his attention back to his patient, glancing at the gray, canid face, then back to the wound he was carefully cleaning.
“How does a Wolf-man end up bleeding to death under a tree?” He shot back in an attempt to turn the conversation.
Yellow eyes regarded him for a moment, before the wounded man burst into barking laughter.
“Alright alright, I won’t pry. But I’ll be happy to share my story with you.” He said, “Might as well let someone hear it before I die”
“Your wounds are nowhere near deadly.” The Doctor protested.
The Wolf-man ignored him and launched into his story. “I’m a mercenary, if you hadn’t noticed. Left my pack years ago and struck out on my own. I eventually found my way to Lyrel, you must have gone through to get out here. Had a nice job with in the Mayor’s personal guard. He was a decent chap, for a human. He barely seemed to care I was a demi and I could ignore the other towns folk.”
He broke off to cough into his hand, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. The Doctor had moved to sewing the cut closed, and was absolutely confident his patient would survive this.
“Well the Mayor, he had a daughter see? A lovely young lady, so bright and curious.” The Wolf-man said, his snout twisting into an approximation of a smile. “As the best soldier in his guard I often was set watching over her, so I regaled the little lady with tales of far off lands and… exaggerated adventures. We grew quite close, heck I reckon the brat had a crush on this old wolf.”
The Wolf-man allowed himself a moment of reminiscence, then smile vanished and he continued. “Well she was apparently quite the looker, among humans at least. Eventually some local lordly big wig caught wind and decided he wanted her as a wife.”
The story stopped as the Doctor was tying a bandage across the shoulder. Despite his initial lack of interest he found himself asking; “So, what did you do?”
The Wolf-man laughed. A sadder, lonelier laugh. “I left. She will be happy with someone powerful like that, she’ll be able to leave this tiny town and see the larger world.”
The Doctor looked back up into those empty, yellow eyes. He could not judge the man for his choice. Instead he asked the last question; “The wounds?”
“Well,” The Wolf-man said with a grin, “looks like his lordship didn’t appreciate how friendly I had been with his new wife. I can understand, I’m quite the dashing fellow. Bastard didn’t have to send the troops to kill me though.”
The Doctor finished his work and stood slowly to allow his patient some room. The Wolf-man clambered to his feet and stretched his arm out. He said his thanks to the Doctor and tossed over a pouch of coins.
Feeling the weight the Doctor quickly looked up and exclaimed, “I can’t take all this! It’s far too much!”
“Keep the extra, for listening to my story. I’m not going to need it anyways.” The wolf-man declared, his ears twitching as he turned to look back down the road. “And put your mask back on.”
The Doctor hesitated, tempted to chuck the whole bag back regardless. But he heard it too. Barely audible above the constant rain he heard the approach of horse hooves from further up the road.
“I can’t help you fight.” The Doctor warned.
His companion raised his blade. Ignoring the pouring rain the warrior moved out from the limited shelter of the tree and stood ready in the middle of the road.
“I know,” He replied, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But please, witness my last fight.”
***
The wait did not last long, within moments a group of riders emerged from the shroud of rain. There were six in total, kicking up clouts of water as they came. Five wore a simple iron breastplate and helmet, covering the rest of themselves with leather armour and clutching short spears in their hands. The last sat astride a great war-horse, clad head to toe in a full set of polished steel plate and a greatsword strapped to his back.
The Wolf-man glanced over them, realising that they’d easily ride him down on the road. Not that he’d have a chance taking all of them on at the same time. He fingered the knives tied to his left vambrace, keeping his sword in his off-hand.
Within a few more seconds the group was nearly upon them, stopping just short of their tree. No one moved to dismount, instead glaring warily at the lone figure on the road. The plated man urged his horse slightly closer, sparing a quick glance for the Doctor and then thankfully tuning out his existence.
“You did well, filth, to have me come out personally to hunt you down. It’s good you hadn’t gone far.” The man said, “I do not normally deal with refuse such as yourself. Be honoured that you might die in my presence.”
The Wolf-man looked up at the steel clad knight, then around at the other riders of the troop. He sagged slightly at the inevitability of it all, then forced himself straight and readied his sword.
“I do not fear death human. I will die fighting and join my ancestors in the great hunt.” He declared, “I just hope I won’t ruin your face further, for your wife’s sake.”
The plated man leered at him with confusion. “Wife? What are you- Ah! You’re talking about that bumpkin of a Mayor’s daughter? Oh good heavens no! A filthy animal has been at her, I could never stoop that low!”
“Wh-what?!” The Wolf-man cried, falling out of his ready stance as he stared wide eyed. “I’d never- Then you mean the Lady has been left back there all alone?”
“Left there?” The plated man said with an amused grin. “After insulting me? Of course not, I made sure to see her burn.”
All became still. Even the falling rain seemed to seemed to slow to a halt. The Doctor, stood forgotten beneath the tree, remained still as the pouch of coins slipped from his hands. It fell through water droplets and landed in a puddle with an inaudible splash.
The Wolf-man roared and the world began to spin back into motion. The rain crashed down all around him as he charged forwards, keeping close to the ground. Two knives had appeared in his hand as he rapidly approached the riders. One knife was sent hurtling towards the open face of the nearest soldier, the second flung at the neck of the lord’s horse.
As the knives flew towards their targets, as the guards reacted to the sudden charge, the Wolf-man pulled himself to one side, heading to the flooded fields. His free hand slammed into the slabs, using his claws to pivot. The guards had to die before he could kill the Lord. He leapt from the road as the knives connected. One guard fell screaming from his horse as the blade pierced his cheek. The other knife scored a shallow gash across the horses neck, almost making it throw its rider.
“After him!” Screamed the plated lord, struggling to regain control. The remaining guards rushed out into the fields.
The Wolf-man growled as he squelched into the fields, running through the mud and water as quickly as possible to get to more solid ground. Behind him the recently formed quagmire proved deadly to the charging horses, tripping them as riders went flying.
“Dismount!” The smartest among them yelled, “The horses can’t wade through this muck!”
Soon the four guardsmen, a couple coated completely in mud, were running up a small incline chasing their target. As they reached the top the Wolf-man span on his heels and charged them. His sword sliced through the rain as it cut into one surprised man’s throat, then he brought it back down to cut at another guards leg.
A spear head thrust out towards him and the Wolf-man fell backwards, rolling swiftly to his feet. He held his sword steady as three spears were levelled against him. Cursing could be heard further back as the lord struggled towards them in his heavy armour. Two of the guards subconsciously turned their heads to check on their leader. The Wolf-man charged the third.
He ducked under the poorly aimed thrust, gripping his sword in reverse as he swept it upwards. His blade sheared clean through a leg as he started to dart backwards. Slightly too slow. Two more spears were thrust at him, one he managed to deflect. The other sliced past his ankle, opening a new large cut.
Barely managing to prevent a fatal stumble he straightened himself and faced his foes. Looking behind them revealed the armoured lord slowly trudging up the hill, almost upon them. With another roar the Wolf-man leapt towards the final two guards, wildly flinging his final knife as he raised his sword for an overhead swing.
As one guard hastily swatted at the incoming knife the other raised the haft of his spear to block the approaching sword. With a mighty growl the Wolf-man twisted his entire body into the blow, slicing through wood and cutting into flesh and bone. He grinned as he saw he’d gone through the spear and buried his sword deep into the man’s chest. The grin vanished as he realised the sword was stuck.
A white pain exploded in his shoulder as he tried to free his blade. Turning he found the final guard had managed to pierce him while he was distracted. The man had just enough time to laugh in celebration before he found a set of wolf’s jaws tearing a chunk of flesh from his throat.
The Wolf-man ignored the gurgled scream as he attempted to sort his newly acquired puncture. Realising he was losing enough blood already he decided not to try and pull it out. Instead he snapped the haft as short as possible to try and keep it out of the way. He finished just in time to see the armoured lord already behind him, greatsword already pulled back in preparation to swing.
There was no time to dodge. The Wolf-man’s only choice was to try and block with his vambrace and leap back to soften the blow. That wasn’t enough. As his enemies blade collided with his arm he was sent hurtling backwards, landing sprawled in the mud.
With a groan he tried to push himself back up, but found he had no strength in his arms. A cursory inspection revealed that one was not just broken, but also halfway cut off with blood streaming out of it. The other fared little better. He looked back up to the unwelcome sight of lord looming over him.
He tried to bite at the man, but the bastard just laughed as he punched the snapping snout then held it closed. Then he grasped his greatsword with one hand and slowly began to raise it.
The Wolf-man lay back, his muscles relaxing with the inevitability and his eyes close. He listened to the rain as it pooled on his face. As he waited an image formed in his mind. A young lady, curious, innocent and much too kind.
With a half screamed roar he found his remaining hand sweeping up to his shoulder, grasping at the remains of the spear. Howling in pain and fury he ripped it free from his flesh and slammed the point into a gap in the visor of his hateful foe. The armoured man spasmed as the point made its way into his skull, and then he collapsed to the ground.
The Wolf-man looked up silently into the grey sky and the never ending rain. He didn’t get up. He couldn’t get up. He waited as water, blood and tears were slowly sucked greedily into the ground below.
Eventually a figure appeared above him, clad in black and wearing that familiar, creepy mask. The figure didn’t help, didn’t try to treat any of the many wounds. They both knew that there wouldn’t be any point. He just sat silently to the side.
The Wolf-man wanted to say something. A piece of useful advice from an experienced traveller. A cautionary tale for the young doctor. Well he assumed the doctor was young, it was tricky to tell. He could even have asked about the hazy shape sat watching from the Bird-man’s shoulder.
In the end he didn’t. The two just sat in silence until eventually the Wolf-man could not help but close his eyes. He would be able to meet her now. Maybe there wouldn’t be a need to leave her in the next world. He went to sleep.
***
It was a long while after the Wolf-man had breathed his last when the Doctor finally climbed to his feet. He dragged the body under the tree and sat it upright facing back the town. Wolf-kin did not appreciate being buried and he had no desire to help any of the rest of them.
“He was bleeding out.” The Doctor stated, “I would never have been able to save him.”
Rain slammed into him as he pulled his coat up tighter.
“He didn’t even want to be saved.” The Doctor declared. “He’d just lost everything!”
Water splashed up around his feet as he turned away from the corpse.
“He died satisfied! He-” The Doctor stopped, and faced back to the town of Lyrell.
He’d won. The Wolf-man had won. And yet why. Why did he look so unfulfilled? Why did he look so damned familiar in those final moments?
Eventually the Doctor turned back and headed in the direction he’d been going. The wrong direction.
For the first time in a long while the voice was silent as the Doctor set back out on his journey.
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