Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) (9 page)

However, it did bring to the surface of his memory last night’s dreams but it also changed his viewpoint of them. The life and death struggle depicted in them no longer seemed as disturbing but just an extension of the Code of the Wild; kill or be killed. In his dream, his perspective changed to that of predator and prey. He was the alpha hunter and everyone else was just prey.

The wind seemed to whisper to him that something was not right in his understanding of the Code of the Wild.

Even as he climbed on top of the altar and crossed his legs, his mind was filled with visions of a wolf pack hunting a herd of elk. The wolves worked in unison to take down the weakest deer. Additionally, the pack would not kill any more than they could eat. There was nothing malicious in their actions. They hunted and killed to survive. Nothing more and nothing less. Their actions actually served to strengthen the elk herd.

Even as he contemplated that simple fact, more images flashed through his mind of a similar theme. The eight other animal totems: wolverine, bear, fox, lynx, puma, boar, owl and raven went about their lives. Each totem stalked and killed their prey without malice or glee. They only killed to eat or to protect their homes. Even then, many times they would not kill. The victor of the conflict would display dominance and allow the loser a chance to submit. Once this hierarchy was established, the loser would move off and the victor went back to his own business.

One part of Graytael’s mind began to question why he was having these visions. Before he could really make sense of them, he heard a voice in the wind. Actually, it was more like a chorus of voices speaking at the same time.

“Welcome Chosen One.”

Gray blinked in disbelief at what his eyes showed him. He rubbed them but the images did not change. The maenhirs of the shrine had taken on the forms of the nine animal totems of his father’s people.

After their initial greeting, the animal spirits remained quiet but seemed to be silently probing his mind.

Gray slowly turned to face each avatar starting with the Wolf spirit. He would meet their inquisitive gazes for a moment and bow his head slightly before moving on to the next spirit. When Graytael completed his pass and returned to his seat, the Wolf Spirit spoke.

“Well met, cub. You have shown us great honor in your visit and in your actions.”

Gray lowered his head in respect. “No Great One, it is I who am honored. This is beyond anything I was prepared for or told about.” That is when he noticed that he was alone and Red Crow was nowhere to be seen.

The Raven Spirit spoke. “I have sent the ghost of my faithful back into the pouch you wear. Do not worry, when you need him in the future, he will come.”

The Bear Spirit added. “We wished to talk with you alone.”

“What is it that you require from me?” asked Gray. He did he best to face whichever Spirit was talking but the Avatars seem to like to complete each other’s sentences and thoughts making it nearly impossible.

The Boar Spirit responded, “Nothing.”

The Puma Spirit said, “We have seen into your heart and soul…”

“…and you are beginning to understand the Code of the Wild,” added the Lynx Spirit.

The Fox Spirit said, “The truth of the matter is simple…”

The Wolverine Spirit said, “…life is a struggle and only the strong will survive.”

The Owl Spirit added, “In the very near future, you will be tested…”

The Boar Spirit continued, “…even though the journey before you will be long and dark, you must survive.”

The Bear Spirit said, “You must be strong.”

“And at times ruthless,” added the Wolf Spirit.

The Raven Spirit said, “But know that we will be watching you…”

Owl Spirit continued, “And when the time is right…”

Fox added, “…you may call on us.”

Gray cocked his head to the side and contemplated what that actually meant. Unsure of the truth, he resigned himself to ask. “What do you mean, call on you?”

The Puma Spirit moved forward. Its spectral head seemed as large as his whole body. “Traditionally when a warrior presents him or herself to us, we peer into their hearts and decide which of us matches their natural disposition the best.”

The Raven Spirit picked up the explanation. “That individual is then able to draw on our essence and become infused with a small portion of our power.”

Gray nodded. “You mean the ability my father had to shape shift into a wolf or the blending of man and wolf.”

The Wolf Spirit nodded. “Yes, but that was only a fraction of our power. We are naught but the manifestation of the Wild, a small portion of Luna’s will.”

The Owl Spirit said, “We are nature and nature is us.”

The Boar Spirit said, “It is Luna’s will that we aid you. And so, we are at your beck and call.”

Gray nodded but found himself asking, “What does that truly mean?”

The Bear Spirit answered. “Right now…nothing.”

Puma Spirit said, “In the future…everything.”

Wolf Spirit said, “When you are in dire need, call on us. We shall aid you in any way possible, be it spell, blessing or companion. If it is in our power to help, we shall do so. This we swear.”

Before Graytael could ask anything more, the Wolf Spirit leapt forward and passed through his heart and body. It was a strange sensation, both cold and hot at the same time. One by one, the rest of the avatars of the Spirits of the Wild poured through his heart and disappeared.

*    *    *    *    *

When Gray woke up, it was still dark but the moon had sunk low in the night sky. His hunting leathers were soaked through with water and fresh snow was on his face. Sitting up, he looked around. The maenhirs had returned to their natural form, if indeed they had truly come to life. Gray felt a tightness in his chest and a slight burning sensation over his heart. Pulling open his shirt, he gazed down on the imprint of a Crescent Moon surrounded by the nine animal symbols of the Spirits of the Wild. It seemed to have been seared into his flesh. Whatever had truly happened, he was now marked.

This was a lot for a twelve year old to digest.

First, his visit to the Beriadan had been enlightening. It had given him a glimpse, however brief, into his mother’s heritage. Even though it made him feel like a baby in the eyes of the Elves and the Beriadan, it had been welcoming. But this…this was different. His meeting with the Spirits of the Wild had been overwhelming. He still was not sure what that all meant but he was certain it was something special.

Even though Rjurik and Anasazi had always treated him just like their own child, they had made certain that he had always known the truth about his parents. That they had sacrificed themselves to keep his existence a secret from the Great Enemy. It was a sobering thought to realize that he was destined to confront a being that had once fought the Gods themselves. He took cold comfort in the fact that both the Spirits of the Wild and the Beriadan had accepted him. Even though he had never known his parents, he was doing his best to follow their example.

Dusting off the snow, Gray made his way down the hill, stepped into the waiting portal of light, and left the desolate landscape of the Highlands behind.

Chapter 11

It was foggy as dawn broke on the day foretold and Blackfang moved among his men. They stretched the length of the Wall as far as the eye could see in both directions. His men were legion. Their ranks were four deep and each were mounted on spiders the size of ponies. Every warrior was a veteran, battle hardened and scarred. They just waited for the foretold omen that would signal the time for the invasion.

Blackfang moved alongside his spider steed and rubbed his hands along its hairy legs. The phase spider stood absolutely still as the scarred werewolf double and triple-checked his harness. This was the part of Lalith’s plan he was the most pleased with, the spider steeds. The spiders would allow his Legion to climb down the sheer cliffs of the Wall and attack the elves from a completely unexpected direction. With a little luck and the blessing of Clotho, his men will be at the walls of Elfholm before the elves can organize a solid defense. At least, that was the plan.

Blackfang rubbed his clawed hands together in expectation of the impending slaughter. He did glance skyward at the rising sun. It was still several hours until the foretold eclipse but the scarred werewolf warlord could not help but feel excited.

*    *    *    *    *

Khlekluëllin
paced back and forth behind his beautifully carved desk while two of his subordinates argue. They had been going at it since before dawn. The crown prince glanced at the water clock in the corner of his office. It was still about three hours till highsun.

Even as the two elves railed at each other,
Khlekluëllin found himself once more admiring the simple precision and design of the Gnomish water clock. It had two different reservoirs for the water and a bunch of glass tubes that somehow funneled the water around which in turn powered the waterwheel that constantly moved at some set rate to turn the gears of the clock. The gnomes had also built in two small figurines in the shape of elves that would ring a chime at the top and bottom of every hour. This clock had actually been a gift to his mother the Queen but she had passed it onto him when he returned home a dozen years earlier and assumed the leadership of the Wardens.

Which brought his mind back to the ongoing argument between Iauron and Jactatör. This was one of the things he hated most about being in command but being the prince meant that he had to assume some sort of leadership role somewhere in the kingdom. At least with the Wardens, he was usually out on the frontier and not stuck behind this desk. Hell, his brother Mortharona had chosen the Palace Guards and always seemed to be embroiled in some sort of dispute between nobles.
Khlekluëllin finally decided he had enough of their bickering. Slamming his fist down on his desk, the blue-haired prince knocked several scrolls off his desk but managed to get their attention.

“Enough! Jactatör, I understand your complaint and although it is unusual, it is not a violation of any custom for a half-breed to participate in the ritual.”

Jactatör started to object but Khlekluëllin silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“And Iauron was completely within his rights to dismiss you from the Wardens. It is rather simple. If you cannot trust that the Beriadan knows what she is doing, then you have no place in the Wardens.”

Once again, Jactatör began to say something but Khlekluëllin silenced him a second time.

“It is my turn to speak, not yours. You and Iauron had plenty of time earlier.” He glanced between his two subordinates before continuing. “Furthermore, since I believe this is more a faith issue and not one of insubordination, I am going to transfer you to another post. And since I would prefer this not to mar your record, I am transferring you to the Palace Guards, effective immediately.”

Jactatör opened his mouth to object but then closed it quickly and forcibly. A transfer to the Palace Guard was not what he had expected. It was not a demotion. It was a promotion.

Khlekluëllin
continued. “I have already discussed this matter with my brother and he is expecting you before Highsun. I suggest you arrive early and be wearing your finest armor. Dismissed!”

Jactatör snapped to attention, saluted and left quickly.

Once the braggart was gone, Khlekluëllin could tell that Iauron had questions. “Yes?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Granted.”

“How could you give him that post? You know as well as I do, that is his dream posting. Jactatör was only in the Wardens until he could curry enough favor to get a transfer. And now he gets it for being rude to someone that the Beriadan had chosen. It’s wrong…sir.”

Khlekluëllin sat back in his chair and gestured for the young Warden to do the same. “Just remember that wanting something and getting something are two different things. You’re right. Jactatör did want the Palace Guard posting but not to serve the crown, he wants the prestige.”

Khlekluëllin
ran his hands through his shoulder length azure hair for a moment before interlocking his hands behind his head and leaning back. “But he hasn’t really thought it all the way through. The majority of the Palace Guard postings are boring and tedious. You stand at a door for half the day, no matter the weather, in full dress armor, unable to move or speak unless someone in your chain of command or the royal family addresses you directly. Now, does that sound like fun to you?”

Iauron shook his head. “No sir. It sounds like pure torture to me.”

“Same here.” Khlekluëllin grinned. “Besides, my brother promised me that he is going to get an enjoyable billet.”

Once again, Iauron was impressed with the unorthodox and devious way his commander’s mind worked. He had actually punished Jactatör but in such a way that the former Warden had actually thanked him for it. It was sweet comfort as the young Warden returned to his duties.

*    *    *    *    *

Graytael glanced up at the sun overhead and judged that Highsun was still a couple hours off as he and Anasazi entered the farmlands and pastures that marked the outskirts of Homestead.

Homestead was a small hamlet that was strategically located in the Southlands. It straddled the Draken River and was the only bridge across the river for nearly fifty leagues. It was less than a day’s travel south of the Wall and three days to the Kingdom of Krantos in the east. The newer, more settled, parts of Homestead were on the eastern bank of the river. While the old town, including the Inn of Quiet Repose was on the west. It was here that the outermost reaches of the Great Forest ended and the Southland truly began.

Even though Graytael had only been gone for a few days, the village seemed much smaller than before. Maybe it was that the world seemed so much bigger now or perhaps he had gained a glimpse at the future and saw how fragile life really was. Either way, the young half-elf was happy to be home.

As the Inn they called home came into view, Anasazi stopped at a nearby vendor stall but pointed at the old building, “You head on inside. I’ll be along momentarily.”

Gray nodded and vaulted over the fence that marked the paddock. He knew it would be quicker if he cut directly through the barn and entered the Inn from the back door than to follow the road through town. Out of habit, he glanced at the water buckets and hay racks and found them full. This was one of the chores left to the most junior of the Inn’s strays and one that he had taken on himself to oversee. Many times the younglings were not strong enough to lift full buckets to fill the water troughs properly or they would grab wet hay. This meant that the horses would not have enough water or bad hay and neither was good for the health of the horses.

Gray stepped into the kitchen of the Inn and froze.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Highsun was less than two hours away and the Inn always had a steady lunch business. But the kitchen was empty. Normally, it would be a bustle of activity but the ovens were cold and no one was in sight. Gray quietly slipped off his backpack and set it near the door. Moving slowly through the familiar kitchen, he strained to hear anything.

There was the slightest of creaks from one of the floorboard in the taproom.

Drawing both his father’s warclub and his hunting knife, Gray cautiously made his way to the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the great room of the Inn. Every so slowly, he pushed open the left door with the toe of his boot and peered inside. The taproom was dark and no one was in sight. The faint sounds of breathing reached his ears. It sounded as if someone was hiding behind the bar.

Gray subconsciously whispered a prayer to the Spirits of the Wild and moved forward with the stealth of the lynx. As he padded his way through the tables and around the chairs, he avoided the squeaky floorboards out of instinct and memory and soon found himself crouched down next to the bar. From this vantage point, he could clearly hear someone breathing on the other side of the bar. He tightened the grips on his weapons and was about to pounce on whomever was hiding there, when he sensed trouble behind him. Spinning quickly, he raised his weapons into a defensive position and prepared to dodge any incoming attacks.

“Surprise!” came a chorus of voices as the lights in the taproom flared to life and out sprang numerous bodies from their hiding spots all around the inn.

Annabelle jumped out from behind the bar and gave him a big hug. Even as shocked as he was, he absentmindedly noticed the feeling of her breasts pressed against his back. Before he could really analyze or respond to the situation, Kariah, Abban, Razbroun and the rest of the inn’s strays moved in close for a hug or a simple pat on his back.

Rjurik moved up and thumped him on the back. “Gotcha pup! By all the gods, you should’ve seen your face.”

Gray retrieved his fallen weapons where he’d dropped them as his friends moved in for hugs and struggled to keep the confused look off his face. He failed. “What is all this?”

“A surprise birthday party. What does it look like?”

“For me?”

“Duh. You aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes.”

Gray gestured to the surrounding activity. Everyone was in motion, busy setting up the taproom for the celebration. “I mean…why?”

“Why not?” Rjurik turned serious and folded his arms across his chest. “Anasazi and I know that it must’ve been hard growing up without your parents, only hearing stories of them. This is just our way of showing you that no matter what happens you are loved.”

Graytael blushed. “I know that…I’ve always known that.”

Rjurik seemed to want to say more but as quick as lighting the gruffness returned to his face and demeanor. “Now get yourself over to the table and open your gifts.”

Graytael had figured out long ago that Rjurik’s cantankerousness was just an act. It was just the dwarf’s way of coping with all things emotional, especially anything that reminded him of Hawkeye and Tatianna. Evidently, Rjurik blamed himself for not being with them all those years ago when they had made their final stand. The old dwarf had convinced himself that if he had been standing beside his parents, at least one of them would have survived. It was not logical nor was it true. Gray had heard Anasazi disagree with him on the subject
many times. Nevertheless, the stubborn dwarf believed it and there was nothing anyone could say or do to change his mind.

Gray was ushered to one of the long tables in the taproom by Raz, the son of Broun the Wanderer. The halfling was actually two years his senior but only came up to his navel. Thin of frame, the halfling had curly brown hair that complimented his hazel eyes, which seemed to change hue depending on his outfit. For today’s festivities, Raz had chosen an outfit in varying shades of brown; brown pants, lighter brown shirt, dark brown overcoat and a brownish-red scarf tied around his neck. Of course Raz wasn’t wearing shoes since halfling feet are typically overly large for their size, covered in hair and had soles as tough as leather.

Raz climbed onto the stool next to him, which almost brought him to eye level with his friend. “Wow. When you came through the taproom, I didn’t even hear you.”

Gray furrowed his brow. “Well, I didn’t hear or see any of you as I came through but then, poof, you were behind me.”

When Raz grinned, it lit up his round face. “Magic. The old man left a potion behind for us to use.” He thumbed his chest. “Now, I didn’t use it nor did Annabelle. We wanted to do it the old fashion way and see if you would see us.”

Gray shook his head. “Well, I didn’t see you at all but I did hear Annabelle breathing behind the bar.”

“Really?” Raz face brightened even more, if that was at all possible. “You nearly stepped on me when you went around table nine. I thought for sure that I was busted.”

Before Gray could respond, Anasazi stepped up. “There is a lesson here if you chose to learn from it.”

Gray nodded. “I was too focused on the obvious and ignored that what was obscured from direct sight.”

Anasazi patted him on the back. “Excellent. That was well put. However, I suggest you take it to heart. Ignoring that which cannot be seen could be deadly in the real world.”

Gray had been Anasazi’s pupil long enough to realize that the ancient shaman was trying to teach him something important but without coming right out and telling him. He accepted it as one of the life lessons which came with having him as a guardian. Whatever message Anasazi was trying to impart to him was soon forgotten as Kariah and Annabelle brought out a cake and placed it in front of him.