Free Wolfbreed by S. A. Swann

Where did they come from?”
    “There are too many names for what they are. Their kind dwells within the darkest primeval wilderness, preying on man. Few who witness their true nature survive. Those who do only contribute to the legends.”
    “But what are—”
    “Come, you must see what you will be commanding in bringing this heathen land to God. I’ve arranged for Lilly to have a training session today.”
    “Training?”
    “Oh, yes.”

    rother Semyon returned Erhard’s dagger. The blood on the edge was still bright red and liquid.
    Brother Semyon brought him to a balcony that overlooked what had been the main courtyard of the monastery. Erhard could see that since the monastery had been reoccupied, all entrances into the courtyard had been mounted with heavy iron-banded doors. The courtyard had been completely closed off. Inside, all ornament, all plant life, even stone walkways, had been removed, leaving a bare earthen floor and nothing else.
    “What is this?” Erhard asked.
    “You will see.”
    Below them, one set of doors opened. A pair of mail-clad guardsmen escorted a naked girl into the courtyard. Her red hair was long, reaching down past her shoulders and hiding her down-turned face from view. The guards reached down and freed her legs from a set of silver shackles.
    “Brother Semyon—”
    “Please, watch. Questions later.”
    The girl, whom Semyon had called Lilly, couldn’t have been much more than seven or eight years old, the same age as the others. She stood at one end of the courtyard, motionless, as if she wasn’t quite aware of where she was. The wind shifted, and Erhard thought he heard something.
    Is she singing?
    If she was, it was too quiet for Erhard to hear exactly what at this distance. All he made out was the barest hint of a tune, three or four notes in a young girl’s voice.
    Lilly’s guards retreated out the doors they had entered, and once they had done so, doors at the other end of the courtyard, closest to Erhard and Brother Semyon, opened. Six men walked out—three guards, and three men in chains.
    The men were obviously Prûsan prisoners. They still wore the rough leather skins that were their armor, and the largest one still had remnants of blue war paint striping his face. The guardsmen set a trio of swords on the ground before the pagans. Then, as two guardsmen leveled crossbows at them, the last guard released their chains.
    The pagans still wore expressions of confusion as the guards retreated back beyond the door they had entered.
    Four people were left in the courtyard—Lilly and the trio of Prûsan warriors.
    “What in hell is this?” shouted one of the Prûsans in a dialect Erhard could barely decipher. He was a heavy brute with a full black beard and the face paint. “Are you Christ-kissing bastards playing games with us?”
    Lilly finally looked up. Her face was blank, except for her eyes, which smoldered green with something that might be hatred.
    “No games,” she said.
    All three turned around to look at her. Next to the heavy one was a thin man with braided hair. He stared at Lilly. “What is happening here?”
    “They want me to fight you,” Lilly said quietly.
    The bearded man laughed. “This is a joke.” He turned around and looked at the balcony, directly at Erhard and Brother Semyon. “Is this how you German scum entertain yourselves? You wish us to slaughter a child for you?”
    Lilly shook her head and spoke quietly. “No. They wish me to slaughter
you
.”
    The third man was bald and smaller than the other two. He made a fist and stomped across the courtyard. “Child or not, the brat needs to learn some respect.”
    When he reached Lilly, he backhanded her across the face. The force should have knocked the girl over, but she remained standing. The bald man turned around to face his two comrades. “Now what kind of ridic—”
    His words were cut short by a liquid gasp. He stumbled forward, and Erhard saw Lilly clinging to his back,