Chapter 88: A Sour Note

He didn't need to question them to get his answer. As soon as Ikaris took a closer look at the deep, bloody gashes on their arms and back, he knew what had happened.

These wounds were ugly to look at, but their lives were not in danger as long as they were quickly disinfected to prevent infection. Yet, upon closer inspection, the boy noticed that these lesions were throbbing unnervingly as if they were alive.

'They were bitten by an Alpha Werewolf. I can already sniff the wet dog smell wafting from them." Magnus informed him telepathically in a low voice. "The mutation will take several days and will be irreversible unless you can give them a wolfsbane antidote within the hour.'

Ikaris's face fell when he heard the Vampire's dismissive diagnosis. His aversion to Werebeings ran deep so he expected nothing else from him.

But the trouble was, they obviously didn't have wolfsbane in Last Saint Village. They barely had any alcohol to disinfect ordinary wounds.

'What is the danger if all three of them become Werewolves?" He asked Magnus with a grim look on his face. "I thought these lycans were some kind of Daemon Dogs. If they were human originally, that complicates things.'

The Vampire snickered to himself and then replied,

'The same as when you became a Crawling Thrall or a Nephilim, but in a slightly different register. The Curse of the Werebeings is that they have heightened bestial instincts. This makes them aggressive, unpredictable and unreliable and to some extent a slave to their impulses. By day they are just augmented humans like you or Malia, but at night they will shape-shift against their will. When this happens, their psychic state is comparable to that of a person dreaming. Few people remember their dreams and even fewer have control over them. To make matters worse, their animal totem, a wolf in their case, will have the dominant role during this period with a pronounced predisposition for hunting, feeding and killing.

' As with Vamps who have an irrational craving for the blood of their own species, Werebeings tend to find the meat of their former species delicious. Since they were originally human, humans will be their new favorite food. The full moon is when their animal side is strongest, while it is dormant during the new moon. On full moon nights, most are just ferocious beasts even during the day. The redeeming point for now is that their bloodline should be weak. They won't be able to fully morph like these lycans for a long time.'

Magnus paused, then continued more seriously,

That's for the non-specific side effects. The real concern is their absolute loyalty to the Alpha who infected them. Not only will they not be able to disobey him, they are now mentally connected to him. If the Alpha summons them through this link, they won't be able to back out and during the night, because of their foggy consciousness, it will be able to demand all sorts of favors from them and they won't remember it when they wake up.

'You better kill them.'

" Not a chance." Ikaris growled curtly.

"My Lord?" Kellam became uneasy as he saw the boy rant out loud.

The teen collected himself, remembering that he wasn't alone, then pondering for a bit he decided to tell them the truth.

"You're Werewolves now. You will now have to..."

The three clawed men listened to his explanation in silence with taciturn expressions. Even Taguchi, the anti-social otaku listened attentively, even forgetting to curl up in fear.

"Your Soul Strength is clearly above the human natives of this world, but it will be hard for you to control yourself, especially at first." Ikaris concluded coldly. "From now on, you will practice the same spell as I did. Whether you succeed or not will determine whether I have to banish you or kill you personally. Is that clear to everyone?"

Kellam, who had a Soul Strength of 23.6, was the calmest of the three. After receiving all his warnings, he nodded solemnly.

"I will succeed." He promised. "But there's another way to guarantee that we won't betray you besides chaining ourselves to the wall 24/7. Kill the Alpha who infected us or make him join our cause."

"And that we will." Ikaris grimaced. "But not now. We're not strong enough nor numerous enough at the moment. Until I know where their hideout is and how many enemies we face, I will not take any rash decisions."

"But my Lord... they have Danchun, Martha and the other women! We can't tarry! God knows what they'll do to them if we delay too long. There are worse things than death in this world, especially if you are a woman." Marvin huffed through clenched teeth.

"Calm down." Ikaris placated him. "We'll take care of it. For now rest."

"No I'm coming." Kellam offered. "I can tell that my sense of smell has already improved greatly. I can help you find their lair."

" No, you can't." The boy flatly refused. "You're not the only one with a good sense of smell and you're forgetting that the Alpha can also sniff out your presence through your bond. Stay here and start practicing the spell I told you about before your mutation prevents you from thinking straight."

The Dwilde hesitated, his face tortured by frustration and his sense of helplessness, but he finally agreed.

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"Fine. I'll hurry up and learn that damn Self-control Spell so I can come help you quickly."

Ikaris suddenly heard footsteps outside the tent and as he stepped out he saw Nardor and the other woodsmen marching into the village with their axes in hand.

"My Lord, where are the enemies?!" Ezrog roared, ready to fight.

He had already stormed the village once and was itching to crack some skulls. The teenager stifled a sigh, but once all the villagers were assembled he told them what they had missed. Their faces grew pale as they learned that all the women had been captured.

As if to contradict this, Malia returned to the village with Martha and one of the peasant women summoned this morning over her shoulders. She had shamelessly stolen the latter's tunic, so the unconscious young woman was the one now unclothed.

"The two villagers you saved, Ikaris." Malia said as she lowered her eyes with a guilty look.

She was supposed to be the first to arrive, but in the end she hadn't managed to save anyone.

"Don't blame yourself. If you hadn't forced them to flee, the situation might have been even worse." The boy comforted her in a weary voice. When he felt she was calmer he asked, "Can you track them down?"

"I've already tried." She shook her head sadly. "Their tracks disappear a few feet after they enter the edge of the forest. The scent disappears too and they've collapsed their burrows. It'll be hard to find them."

"Fuck... Damn stray dogs." Nardor swore angrily.

Ikaris kept his composure, but walked away from his subjects for a moment.

"What do you advise, Magnus?"

A tired sigh rang out in his head.

"In choosing Cutthroat Island we knew it would be dangerous. Casualties are inevitable. You just have to make sure that Last Saint Village grows faster, militarily at least, than the casualties. Getting too emotional will get you nowhere in this situation.

"You are not alone. Each of your people is an extension of your will, not the other way around. You do not live to protect them, but they can sacrifice themselves at any time to serve your interests. Never forget that."

Ikaris frowned, but he did not contradict the old Vampire. He knew he was right.

Even though he had convinced himself inwardly that he had to be a good Lord to deserve the loyalty of his subjects, the truth was that he had created Last Saint Village out of ambition. Once Cutthroat Island was under his control, he had every intention of expanding his territory.

This could not be accomplished by bribery and diplomacy alone. War was bound to come, and only a fool would believe that he could defeat his enemies without suffering any losses in his own army. A plan could be perfect, but accidents happened.

In the meantime, he had to keep moving forward.

A moment later, Ikaris returned to his villagers much calmer, then said to Nardor,

"We'll go get more wood. But only Malia, Ezrog and I will go. We'll make as many trips back and forth as necessary. The rest of you will hurry to finish the wall and put up the tents. It will take longer, but it will be safer. I have already ordered my Tartarus Enforcer to assist you. If the lycans attack again, you will be temporarily allowed to take refuge in my cottage."

Nardor bowed to his Lord and then set to work barking orders. Ikaris, Malia, and Ezrog rushed back into the forest and busied themselves chopping and hauling wood to the village like slaves until nightfall.

Thus ended their third day on Cutthroat Island. On a sour note, but determined to face whatever obstacles this island would put on their way.

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