Twilight of the Wolves (15 page)

You are strange, wolfchild.

Sao sat with the stone in his hand and stared at the coruscating blues and purples twisting rapturously.

Hreao’s caustic voice crashed through him, They are near. Burning. Burning, his voice a growl thick and seismic, vibrating through the air, shattering spacetime like glass.

Faoi howled and Hreao joined her, the notes thickening the air and expanding with exponential growth, spacetime refracting, the air congealing round them, all the colors brighter within, the sounds louder, every soldier’s heartbeat audible, every breath at Sao’s shoulder, his vision telescoping to the humans cutting and burning the ancients, while the trees screamed in agony, their song melancholic and terrified. Covered in wool, young men with cold sober faces haunted by Death and he saw it hanging round their necks, behind their eyes, but Hreao was running with Faoi beside him and the child cried, a
sole screeched note.

Chasing them, calling their names, hearing the rage within them, the trees wailing, battering against the cage of his heart, barraging him with hate and pain from a thousand years and a thousand more for those who desecrate the race which mothered them all. Running with her in his arms, his pulse rapid and his skin steaming in the snowfall, holding her close, wrapped in the fabric she was adopted in and the elkskin, too cold for the season.

Catching Hreao and Faoi, he pulled on his tail and he stopped, snapping at Sao, struck motionless by Hreao’s fury. The soldiers within human sight, the wolves grew before him, their fur bristled, their bodies in agony, incinerating from the inside, their eyes clouded by desperation and hate. Sao wrapped the child as tight as he could in the elkskin and dug away the snow at the base of a tree and placed her there.

If I die, take her with you.

Hreao’s fury bated for a moment, the air shifted, his fury releasing them, and his eyes flashed confused. He looked at the human child, She will live and so shall we.

Sao pressed his forehead against Hreao’s then Faoi and walked towards the humans.

At the threshold of the trees, the barrier between the forest and the land of man, he stopped, his blackhair long and a stark contrast to the snow.

Garasun blue stared back at him, the men short and thin and pale as Sao, they spoke fast and in heavy dialect, What do you do here? Come out! Forty of them, some digging, some cooking, some chopping wood, others mending clothes and weapons, tending to injured friends and brothers.

The sound of metal in wood over and over drove against Sao’s spine and the rage flared within him, the jaws gnawing at his heart, You must leave this place and touch not these trees.

They stopped, their eyes heavy and Sao saw the weariness in them, the Death waiting everywhere. Deathwalkers hovered
beyond them, flickering back and forth, everywhere and nowhere at once, waiting for the violence to take the dead away to eternity. Confused, one of them walked towards him, sword in hand, rifle slung over his shoulder, thick wool cloak covering his tiny hungry frame, Who are you, brother? Where are you from?

I am from the forest.

The man squinted, his lips pulled back as if the words turned sour, Where in Glass?

I will not allow you to kill these trees.

He shifted his weight and looked behind him at the men working, shivering, starving, If we don’t cut these trees many of my men will die by morning. A thousand of us died today. These men lost their brothers. Their actual brothers. Their brothers of war. Have you seen those Vulpe warships? They rain fire. I watched my men melt into the snow as if they weren’t even there. A man one moment and viscera smeared on the scorched ground the next. Have you ever seen a dragon? They’re not what we thought they were. They turn scores of men to ash and eat handfuls at once. It’s like fighting an invincible god designed for violence. When I left Glass, I was a child holding a rifle for the first time and in these two years I’ve watched thousands and thousands and thousands of men die. Vulpe, Drache, Garasu, and all the children and women and aged in between. We have died over and over out here. Please, brother, let us live. At least for tonight.

Sao’s face collapsed but the fire did not die. Hreao and Faoi’s heartbeats blasted within him and the rage and fear and pain of the forest coursed through him, their song mourning and desperate, wailing, howling for their children, for salvation. Boiling but in a softer tone, Do not touch these trees again.

He shook his head, I’m sorry, brother. I can’t do that. I wish you well, but I suggest you go. We may not be many but we’re more than you. He turned and walked back to his men, nodding to the axemen who nodded back and swung their axes again,
each chop cutting into Sao’s spine.

Sao’s mouth opened but the scream came from elsewhere and Hreao burst through the treeline taking the axeman’s arm with him followed by Faoi who crushed the torso of another’s, the crunch audible above the orders and screams.

The air alive with fear and violence, every molecule electric and pulsing, Sao saw the rifles raised at the wolves and he rushed in, punching through the neck of one, pulling his spine through his skin and using it to break the neck of another man. The wolves tore through the humans, dodging ironballs and ripping the bodies apart, and Sao disappeared within the fracturing and refracting spacetime, lost in the rage of the wolves, his body did not disappear but expanded, every atom of him taking force, Life, and his movements defied observation or comprehension. The stabs and the wounds in his flesh did not reach him and he ran through the swords slashing his arms and legs, the blood—his and theirs—covering him. The maimed bodies writhing all round, the Deathwalkers descending, their song filling space, and Sao gasped, an arm in his left hand, a boy screaming at his feet, a river of blood from the hole in his torso where his arm used to be. Breathing heavy, his eyes unfocused and he turned to the grey expanse above, the snow falling in delicate waves. All was still but for the bodies caught between Death and dying, and Hreao and Faoi howled. Sao smiled, his heart emptying into the sky, into the moons beyond the cover of clouds.

Hreao’s tongue hung from his jaws and Faoi ate a young man near the still-burning fire.

Please, don’t eat them, the bile rose in him and he emptied his stomach as Faoi licked the blood from her jaws. Sao took the fallen snow in his hand and scrubbed his hands and face, the ice sublimating into the calm. All around, the Deathwalkers sang, ushering the new dead to the Goddess of Death. Their song, slow and melodic, neither happy nor sorrowful but familiar, a bridge
between destinations and existence, connecting that which is with that which was and will be. Throwing his bloody clothes from him, he scrubbed all over until the blood washed away in pink puddles round his feet, then raided their supplies and found no food but trousers and a shirt made from hemp. He took a wool cloak and carried it back into the trees and took the girl within it. She slept, quiet and alone and cold, but she slept. He held her to his chest, the tears hissing off his skin.

I’m sorry, he whispered while rocking her. I’m sorry, the gasps taking him to his knees.

Faoi and Hreao sat still and watched him licking the blood from their mouths.

Wha’s tha, a whisper in his ear, her tiny finger coming into view in his periphery as it pointed over his shoulder at the trees ahead.

It is a tree.

Wha’s tha?

That is a bird.

Wha’s tha?

That is Hreao.

Hreao laughed and it ran up Sao’s spine and the girl laughed, kicking her legs, her heels tapping against his hips.

Wha’s tha?!

Sao did not see the hand but turned to see her looking above and he followed her pudgy smile to a light far above flying back and forth. The song of the forest broke from its perennial tears and rejoiced for a moment, the wolves howling, and Sao’s chest emptying, his limbs limp and his eyes wet.

I do not know.

Hreao whispered, It is an Angel, our Sister.

They watched it, the child laughing in high notes, the wolves howling, and Sao caught in the tumult within his body, the atoms raging and reconfiguring, the blackblood filling with Light and a
song from beyond the forest, cascading from the Angel, melodious and endless, a familiar voice in words deeper than humanity. The forest stilled, a torrent in repose, and then the Angel flew on, the howling ceasing and Life beginning again, spacetime cycling.

Strapped to his back, her shock of redhair sprouting from her head as a blooming rose. They trudged through the wet ground, the trees coming back to life more and more with each passing day, growing greener and greener, the skeletal limbs taking on new dimensions.

An Angel, he said.

Our Sister.

What happened?

Hreao, Faoi, Sao, Hreao! Faoi Faoi Faoi Faoi, Hreao! Her voice high and piercing when she laughed and sang, breaking the condensed humidity of emotionality. Sao Hreao Faoi, Hreao! She kept tempo by beating her tiny fists on the shoulderstraps Sao made to carry her along with him through the world of forest.

Smiling, Sao stepped over the thick roots and kicked the mud from his feet every fifty steps. Clapping Hreao on the back, he sang with her, Hreao Faoi Sao Faoi Saoi, Hreao!

The night, dark and moonless, swallowed them. The fire battling the black but making little headway, the girl slept between Faoi’s forelegs, her head cradled on her breasts, and Hreao slept beside them, his head on Faoi’s back, his eyelids flickering in the flames.

Will we really go to Yiyuyan, her voice rolling like waves.

You don’t need to come. She no longer needs milk either.

What will you do, wolfboy?

He shook his head, I don’t know. If they can help me.

If they cannot?

Sao broke twigs into even length segments, then threw them into the fire.

Child, no one knows the way and you do not know what will
happen when you get there. They want to use you and you do not know why.

Do you?

I do not understand humans and they do not understand us. Not anymore. We cannot even speak with them anymore. They have forgotten Language. Instead they babble on like mewling babes. I do not know the Yi and it seems that few humans do either. They are an odd and ancient breed.

They smelt different, he fingered the stone they gave him strung round his neck.

She blinked and yawned, They are different. I smelt it, too. They have more wolf in them but also something separate from wolf or human.

Are they human?

Are you?

Yes.

So you say, but one cannot smell one’s own scent just as one cannot see one’s face.

I’ve seen my face.

You have seen a shadow and believe it is a man.

What should I do?

You know what you must do.

I will not be a demon.

What do you know of demons? Humans call everything inhuman a demon or a god, a tenuous barrier by their definition.

We call you the old gods.

I know what they call me and my ancestors. It is my people who watch over us tonight and every day. It is them who feed us and all the world. We are the first children but now we are gods, she laughed and Sao’s chest filled with water and Hreao sneezed awake, then yawned and curled into a ball.

The wind blew but no birds sang and all was quiet up and down the foodchain.

Sao shivered and yawned, This is a strange night.

It is only night.

Empty and alone.

You do not smell it?

What?

War. Far away. Days away but the forest feels it and the texture of the air changes. Ever since the girl you have stopped living within the music.

Looking around into the impenetrable shadow, the song came to him, faint and distant but working its way to him like the flow of a river down a mountain. The forest, he said, It’s afraid.

Yawning, Faoi shifted the girl in her forelegs and lay down her head, All is fragile in these times. Even the wolves leave, afraid. The humans have lost their minds and have turned on the world. They burn us down and even try to kill us. We can no longer trust them but neither can we stop them. They are an infant carrying the end of the world in their hands. The end is made of glass and the infant only just learnt to walk.

You would let the world die?

Of course not, she smacked her jaws, Only the humans. They will eat themselves alive not even aware that the flesh they eat is their own. We will not help and neither shall we watch. It hurts. Everywhere. I have lived for centuries. Every tree I have known was once two wolves and when they die I feel it, no matter the distance. The world is the forest. It is a body that covers the planet and its heart beats in all living things. Humans have lost not only their minds but their identities. You should thank the one who changed you. It is an awful thing to be human.

But what if all the forest dies?

If this is the end of the wolves then it is the end. If we are the old gods then there will be new ones to raise the world once more. This world did not begin with wolves and it will not end with wolves.

Maybe the Yi know what to do. This necklace they gave me, what does it smell like? I’ve never smelt it before.

It is the scent of the moon. The lunar flower.

Sao fingered the stone glowing a deep purple in the blackness, incandescent.

Let the fire go. It will be dawn soon, she yawned.

Sao nodded and leaned back into the palms of his hands.

Goodnight, wolfchild.

He turned to her, his eyebrows knit, Was that to her or me?

Why do the humans hate wolves?

Because we remind them that they are human.

She splashed in the pool laughing, the water beading off her hair, Hreao! Come swim with me!

Hreao smiled and walked into the water, nudging her with his head. She splashed him, kicking her tiny feet in the water causing Hreao’s mouth to open, his great head leaned back. Diving in, Sao came from underneath her and lifted her into the air, holding her above his head, Now we have you! He put her within Hreao’s jaws, from feet to neck, her laughter rising as a siren.

The suns shown bright and the butterflies filled the air of the clearing. Thousands of them of all colors and shades and hues, a floating rainbow of transient formations. The girl rolled from Hreao’s jaws and swam for the shore, running in circles around the pool, trailing her hands through the clouds of living color. Faoi ran after and nudged her into the water, laughing. She splashed, kicking, arms flailing, Faoi Faoi Faoi! she howled and wrapped her arms round Sao’s shoulders, then pushed down, submerging his head.