Siberia was something else entirely. The instant he got off of the train, he felt icicles forming inside of his mouth. All the warm air in his lungs was sucked out and replaced with stinging winter chill. His body stiffened and he instantly decided that he hated Russia.
"Why here?" One of Reiss' soldier, his arms folded over the front of his parka asked and dug into his pocket for a second beanie to put over the one he was already wearing.
Reiss ignored the question and disembarked the train along with the rest of his men. He had a full company of Templars. One hundred and twenty total, including himself. It was precautionary to send so many armed and well-trained soldiers. This mission was vital to strengthening the Church's defenses.
Slowly, the soldiers, disguised as a wilderness survival expedition from a distant college, unloaded their gear which was also disguised. Parka liners could be unzipped to reveal Kevlar plates. Walking sticks were carefully disassembled rifles. Nearly everything they brought was essential equipment.
Reiss blew warm air into his hands as he watched his men assemble before him. He made a quick muster and once he was satisfied that no one had been accidentally left behind at some stage of their journey, they left the station and headed out.
Their mission was simple, make contact with the werewolf pack that resided here in Siberia. It was simple enough, but extremely dangerous. The Russian pack, during the Crusades, had openly fought against the Templars. They rallied with Orthodox Christians, who had been targeted by parts of the Crusades, and fought in several battles. Then when the Templars were purged, they chased out survivors into the hands of the enemies.
Now they would believe that the Knights Templar had been gone for a very long time. Revealing that an old enemy was still around might not go well, even if the Templars came in peace.
The Church realized that the Templars aren't strong enough to fight this new threat by themselves. Their numbers just weren't as high as they used to be since it was impossible to recruit. Most members followed in the footsteps of family members for generations. Reaching out to the packs with an olive branch was the solution. They just needed to be convinced that this was in their best interest as well.
There was only a small mining town that was serviced by the rail station which was mostly used to ship out the raw ore, so there was only one road, which went in the opposite direction which Reiss had been directed to go. The locals became concerned when the company began to leave the road and head into uninhabited territory. They told them that there was a darkness in the woods. People had been disappearing and they believed it was dark spirits.
Reiss knew that all rumors held some truth so as soon as they were out of sight of the road, all of the gear was reassembled. In just under an hour, he had a fully armed company of Templar sporting high powered rifles that fired silver plated ammunition. Reiss had his own gun, but he also brought along his sword which he simply told customs was a traditional sword that was always brought along. Customs didn't really care. He was going to Siberia.
While rifles were the best weapon to use against werewolves which had no true defense against bullets, sword were a last ditch weapon if the distance was closed. A normal human had no real chance against a werewolf in a melee, but a sword did improve it slightly.
The armor was slipped out of the parkas and put on while the parka's still good were then put on top of that. Several soldiers pulled out rods that connected to each other into a rectangular shape and slats of metal were screwed on the frame it created to make tower shields or a shield of any design.
Reiss stuck with carrying his rifle in his left hand and his sword in his right.
"Keep your guard up, but don't shoot at the first thing that moves," He ordered. It would be an embarrassment in first contact was met with bullets. "We're heading into unknown territory."
"Sir, how do we know where we're going?" The solider clutched his rifle closely, his shield was strapped to his left arm and a blade to his back.
"We don't," Reiss said and the added, "We're in their territory. The wolves will find us."
They weren't found that day after several miles of hard marching.
A geographical map showed a lake nearby and Reiss decided to make camp near its shore.
Camp was set up quickly and large roaring fires for heat popped up across the site. A few men went down to the lake to collect water to boil for drinking water and soon the food was ready.
Spirits were high and the general uneasiness faded away. There were guards along with heat sensing cameras that, in the subzero temperatures of Siberia, would make a field mouse visible a football field away.
By midnight, most everyone was asleep except for Reiss and the guards.
Reiss was still in his armor, sitting in his tent when a guard came to him and handed him a tablet that was connected to one of the camera feeds.
"Sir." He saluted with an arm across his chest. Puffs of his breath were clearly visible and his cheeks were rosy red. "Two heat signatures about four hundred yards out. They aren't moving any closer."
"There they are." Reiss nodded. He had been told by some of the Lycans back in the Vatican that the packs wouldn't meet him head on. They would go somewhere they knew they would be seen and would want to meet there. The packs would be aggressive, but curious at first.
Reiss handed the tablet back to the guard and then slipped his gloves on.
"Orders, sir? Should I sound the alarm?"
"No." Reiss stood up and grabbed his belt with his sword on it. He strapped it to his waist and then attached his rifle's harness to his armor along with a radio. "I'm heading out there."
"Sir?"
"Keep an eye on me and sound the alarm if I'm attacked. Otherwise..." He patted the guard on the shoulder. "Don't do anything rash." He grabbed his infrared googles.
Reiss headed out and away from the camp where he had his two snipers woken up. They were watching him with their heat scopes. The two were the best that Reiss knew. They had perfect groupings at one mile on moving targets. He felt secure knowing they had his back.
Being a cloudless night, it was colder than at the train station. Reiss regretted. It putting on a few more layers or one of those electric, heated vests under everything, but they were cumbersome and with Lycans prowling about, he needed to be mobile and capable.
The man's boot crunched the hard snow. It was too cold too even snow and what was already on the ground might as well have been ice. Reiss winced with each step. He was making so much noise. He knew that the Lycans were well aware of his approach, but the night was silent and here he was, like a bull in a China shop, marching around.
"Come no closer," A voice growled. It caught Reiss off guard. It was nearly pitch black and even with his infrared goggles on, he barely noticed the two figures.
One was in his feral form and the other appeared to be human. The feral was smaller than most and the human appeared mostly normal in size. He couldn't make out more details.
"Who are you and why are you here?" The human asked. He had an American accent which was another surprise.
Reiss was expecting to have a conversation in Russian, it was part of the reason why he was selected to lead this mission.
"Speak!" He demanded.
Reiss stood tall. " I am Turcopolier Reiss of the Order of the Knights Templar. I have been sent to treat with your leadership in the hopes of establishing friendly relations and possible military alliances." He said straight from the book.
The human raised an eyebrow and then turned to the feral. "Go get your father, Kolya."
The feral turned and ran off. It made impressive time and soon it was just him and the Lycan in human form.
"Templars, huh?"
Reiss nodded.
"Well no matter what you are, you've crossed into wolf territory and looking at that small army you have back there," he nodded behind Reiss. "I'm not sure I really believe what you're telling me."
"That's just a precaution," Reiss explained. "We know what your kind is capable of. Can never be too safe."
"I suppose," The man chuckled. "Wouldn't be enough anyways."
"Like I said, it's merely a precaution." Reiss didn't take lightly to insults towards his men. Sure, humans are naturally at a disadvantage in a fight against a werewolf, but there's a reason to why humans are the dominant species as well.
The packs, to Reiss, are an inferior lifestyle. They mostly seclude themselves from the rest of the world. A few try integration with limited amounts of success and the fall of the Inquisition along with the creation of the Coalition was a step in the right direction. However, Reiss still believed they were a far ways off. The packs needed to get with the times.
"I've told you my name. My I have yours?" Reiss asked. He found that knowing each other's name tended to make first meetings go smoothly.
The human Lycan considered it for a moment. "Trevor."
"Nice to meet you, Trevor." Reiss shivered. The cold was cutting through his winter clothing. It was supposed to have been good enough for subzero. That would be the last time Reiss trusted the tag. Here he was freezing and the man in front of him was in what looked like a wool sweater and a normal pair of pants. He want shivering at all.
"We'll see how nice it is." Trevor noticed ten man shivering. It was hard to remember that not everyone was like a furnace like him when he was so often surrounded by other werewolves. "If you want to get one of your men to come over and set up a campfire, I'll allow that. It's going to be some time before Kolya come back."
Reiss was quick to accept the offer and soon the two were sitting around a camp fire. He poked at the new source of warmth that slowly fought back the cold though watching the flames flickering, it almost seemed that it was fighting back.
"I'm not too caught up on history," Trevor said and watched the fire. "But I know that the Knight's Templar were betrayed and wiped out."
"That's what your books say." Reiss grinned. He finding this Lycan to be good company. A lot of other Templars were often hesitant to interact with their Lycan brothers. The trick, Reiss realized early on, was to just treat them like anyone else. They didn't want to be seen as a Lycan, but another Templar. Even hundreds of years after its formation with both humans and Lycans in mind, there was still stigmas and stereotypes.
Trevor took those words in for a moment. With everything he had learned about the world during the past decade, he really shouldn't have been surprised by anything. Just the previous month, he had learned that it was rumored that Sparta of Ancient Greece was one of the first attempts by werewolves to create a country of their own.
"Sir. You've got one coming in hot." Reiss' radio crackled to life.
Trevor lifted his nose up to the air. It was faint, but recognizable and made him feel warmer inside. "That would be the Alpha."
Not much later, a wolf came running in. His paws dig hard into the frozen snow, spraying chunks in all directions. He came to a halt
He stared down Reiss before going over to Trevor and nuzzling the side of his face, hopping on his hind two legs and bringing his front paws onto Trevor's shoulders.
Reiss stayed respectfully quiet. This was the Alpha. It all depended on convincing him that an alliance would be in the best interest. From there, the rest of the packs would follow suit since intelligence did that the Russian pack was the largest and most influential. It had the most members in the Coalition and the trust of all other even when they bicker amongst themselves.
Trevor said something to the alpha and glanced over to Reiss.
The alpha huffed, annoyed and got back down. They seemed to be having a slight disagreement.
"He doesn't want to talk," Trevor finally said after a bit. "He wants you to take your men and leave. I think it's rude, but he has the final say."
Reiss crossed his arms in annoyance. He half expected this. "Not one word?"
Trevor shook his head. "He doesn't trust you and doesn't believe that you are part of the Knights Templar. You have until tomorrow night to leave and be at the train station.
That was it. Reiss wasn't allowed to say anything else and was forced to go back to camp with nothing to show for it.
The next day the camp was picked up and the company marched back to the train station, having disguised their gear once more.
The train station was eerily quiet. The locals that had gathered around, selling the few merchandise they could, were gone. No one but the Templars were there.
It was all wrong and Reiss quickly had his men redeploy their equipment and weapons. He had most of the soldiers set up in the station and the warehouse where goods were stored until shipped out. They watched the surrounding woods while some others patrolled around the perimeter.
Reiss was always one to lead from the front, so he was outside. He hated how quiet it was as well. Other places always had noise, even during the winter. Small animals in the trees, the occasional bird or the tracks of a deer, there was alway life. Here there was nothing. The snow was undisturbed by any tracks except the boot prints of his men.
Reiss walked slowly around the front of the train station. It had snowed a little the previous night and the wooden platform was dusted with powdery snow. It was easily swept into the air with each step.
He carried his gun in front of him, but was ready to reach for his sword on his waist if somehow he found himself face to face with a Lycan. He was confident that he would be able to hold his own until his men came. He had sparred with Lycans before and he had a pretty good idea on how to fight them.
The trick was to read them. Lycans were beasts of instinct. They didn't think very much when fighting. Thinking took precious moments. They reacted, letting their muscles do what they wanted. This meant they telegraphed their moves. It was just for a moment, but a skilled eye could tell what a Lycan was going to do well before it did it. Some of the Lycans back at the Vatican refused to spar anymore because Reiss had gotten so good.
"Got sightings on the west flank!" A soldier who was on the roof of the station yelled out and pointed. "Just beyond the bend of the track."
Soldiers began running and shifting inside of the station, taking up positions inside and outside.
"More from the east!" Another one yelled out.
Reiss looked over in the opposite direction, towards the single road that led to the mining town. It was impossible to miss.
There was a wall of them that stretched far far in either direction and soon it was apparent. They were surrounded by hundreds.
Reiss swelled with anger. They had been betrayed. That Lycan hadn't wanted to talk to those that he was going to kill. He would find him and then personally kill him.
The man's grip tightened even more on his gun and he raised it up to his shoulder and flipped the scope up.
It wasn't the Lycans he had talked to the night before. They stood on two legs with arched backs. Their arms were long and hung to their knees. Looked exactly like the Lycans back in the Alps.
The mass of bodies shifted and a howl filled the skies. The ground shook and the swarm surged forwards.
Reiss never gave the order to fire. Maybe it was an accident. Someone who was nervous and let his fingers slip or maybe a soldier thought he heard a command behind the deafening howls and yips that made Reiss' ears hurt. The station erupted into a storm of bullets.
They silver plated rounds tore into mass of bodies. Some fell down, killed instantly by an unaimed round to the head or the heart. Most kept going, the silver too small a quantity to affect them immediately. They began to close the distance quickly.
Reiss fired in short bursts as he backpedal led to the station. He was yelling out for everyone else to do the same. Their best bet was to concentrate their numbers where they would be able to hold out, but there were stragglers. Men who moved to slow or had been too far out. With the gunfire and the sound of howling, their screams weren't even heard.
Inside was much more orderly that Reiss would have thought. He was shamed to even think that they would be panicking. Soldiers were at the windows, firing in a controlled manner. Empty magazines were exchanged out for filled ones by a team of men running from one side of the building to the other. The smell of spent gunpowder burned Reiss' nose.
"Keep firing," Reiss yelled. "You are Templars. You have trained your entire life for this moment. To make righteous combat against the denizens of hell in the name of God." He got to a window and fired. "These creatures are unholy perversions of God's image for Earth. Send them to hell!"
The mass of the strange, bipedal Lycans seemed never ending. They ran headlong into the bullets and it seemed to do nothing. He could feel the tension of his men as it quickly became unnecessary to aim much.
"Swords!" Reiss threw his gun aside, the magazine empty. "Brace the openings."
Swords were drawn and not a moment too soon.
A long gangly arm came bursting through the window next to Reiss. It slashed into a Templar's armor, eating up Kevlar, but not flesh. The Templar reared back from the
Blow and another screamed and hacked at the arm.
The Lycan howled in pain and pulled its arm back with a few missing fingers.
Glass from windows were broken and fell to the ground. Blade met claw and the Lycans fought to get inside.
A Templar close by blocked a swipe with his shield. It sounded like nails on a chalk board as the metal was sheared. He twisted around and disemboweled the Lycan. It's guts spilled out and yet it still tried to keep attacking. Another Templar decapitated it from behind.
They fought bravely and hard. With skill. They weren't just a rabble of men with weapons. Templars were professionals. They trained hard for years and years, giving their lives over to the Order in the hope that one day they would die to defend the innocent and be raised into the kingdom of Heaven.
The Lycans were a mindless rabble. There was no organization in their movement. They climbed over their dead and dying, driven by some unseen force that compelled them to kill. Even so, no matter how outmatched they were in terms of training, they had numbers of pure brutality.
A helmet flew by Reiss. It landed and rolled a moment. Blood seeps out of it and a tooth fell out.
The Lycans were pushing the Templars away from the windows and beginning to pour in greater numbers.
A man, brace and fierce, he raised his blade high and his shield in front of him. He charged with a fervor that would rival the tales in the Bible. He drove his sword into the belly of a beast, pulling it up into the chest cavity. It fell, but another took its place. Before the man could do anything, a jaw clasped around his helmet. He pulled back just as the helmet was crushed like a can. A swing of the blade later and the new Lycan no longer had its lower jaw. It swiped with its claw and the man no longer had a head.
Reiss could do nothing but fight on and be a beacon for courage. He hacked and slashed. A Lycan crouched slightly, a sign that it was getting ready to pounce. Reiss moved to the side just in time to get out of the way and bring the sword up so the Lycan skewered itself.
Reiss drew the sword out of the corpse and looked around. He was losing men fast. The ground was ankle deep of blood and bodies littered the entire room. More Lycan than man, but they were still coming through the windows. Enough was enough.
There was a switch in Reiss' sword. A simple twist lever that could be operated by the thumb, but stiff enough not to be accidentally turned. He flicked it.
The blade fell apart like a slinky. The blade was separated into sections, held together by a strong steel cable which connected the entire contraption to the handle.
His men, those that still lived, grinned. It was rare for Turcopolier Reiss to use his extremely dangerous and difficult to use blade whip. Everyone was in for a treat.
Using his entire body, Reiss swung the whip around. It traveled in a tilted orbit. The high end of the orbit went over heads of the Templars and the low end cut into the ranks of Lycans.
The whip recoiled at the impact, cutting and slicing through fur and meat. Reiss drew the whip back ever his head, straining, but still resolute and then he drew it down. The end was moving so fast that the whip cracked. It slammed into the heads of the Lycans.
While their leader tore apart any Lycans that got within range, the Templars took up their guns again and fired into the crowd to keep them away from Reiss. It was a perfect support and kept the a Lycans at bay.
They still came and Reiss was only a man. He was quickly growing tired and his men, less than half, were growing weary and out of breath.
They were accepting that they wouldn't be making it back home. They would die in battle, fulfilling their oaths. They were ready to die. God would reward them for their service and faith.
Reiss was forced back after several minutes. His arms burned and he was breathing hard.
He rallied his men for one last attack. They would not die falling back. They would die pushing forward.
They rallied and charged forward with a battle cry that for a moment, was louder that the Lycans.
The creatures actually backed off. They stepped back and reconsidered attacking for a moment.
The Templars didn't let them reconsider. They hit them hard with guns firing and blades swinging. The first several ranks were hacked down quickly until the Lycans were able to start attacking again.
For every Templar that fell, two Lycans were cut down. The ratio seemed impossible, but it was because of the way the Templars fought. They fought together. They backed each other up. If one was struggling, other flocked to their aid.
Just as the fighting was about to peak though, the Lycan swarm began to taper out. The unending swarm, a sea of teeth and claws was ending. Shore was in sight.
Reiss blocked a Lycan with a shield he had picked up while another Templar dove under him and the Lycan. He thrust his sword up and into it. Another tackled it down and soon it was hacked to pieces. Every inch of their bodies was coated in blood. The red cross that they wore on their armor was no longer visible.
They did the same thing to another Lycan, cutting it down easily and then there were none left.
Reiss stood there, in the middle of the worst scene of blood and gore he had ever seen. Limbs, decapitated heads every part of the body was eviscerated in some way.
A mass of flesh was piled at each window where both sides had struggled to hold the choke points. Between the organic mess was the littering of bullet casings and discarded weapons.
Reiss closed his eyes, expecting to hear that empty and haunting silence again, but it didn't come. Growls and snarls were filtering in from outside.
They couldn't have fallen back to just attack again. The things didn't have the capacity for stupid strategy.
He went to a window and gazed outside.
It was another fight. Two legged Lycans fighting four legged Lycans led by their Alpha.
Hopefully the Alpha will at least talk to the Templar after this battle, since they have proved that they are on the same side more or less.