Wolfs Soul

by Jane Lindskold

  Their arduous journey across the ruined lands of Rhinadei—a journey made more difficult because Wythcombe refused to use magic to ease the way as long as there were other alternatives—had apparently made Ranz begin to doubt his choice of a teacher. Wythcombe’s superb ability in keeping back the ensorcelled storm that had been set to attack any who climbed Mount Ambition had eased that doubt some. Nonetheless, each time Wythcombe refused to produce some dramatic magic as the solution to a difficulty, Ranz’s scent further shaded with doubt. Had he been a young wolf, doubtless the One would have given the young man a solid drubbing to remind him that he was not yet ready to lead the hunt. Wythcombe did nothing.

  Indeed, Blind Seer didn’t know if Wythcombe was aware of Ranz’s changing attitude. Or was he aware and this ignoring was part of his instruction of the young sorcerer? Or was the old man simply so focused on his need to find and stop Kabot that he had no attention for anything else? Blind Seer had discussed his impressions with Firekeeper, but she didn’t have any better idea how to deal with Ranz—or Wythcombe—than Blind Seer did. In the end, both wolves had decided that they would watch and wait—and hope that humans knew best how to deal with their own kind.

  When Firekeeper and Blind Seer emerged from the gate into Tey-yo, the first thing that Blind Seer was aware of was how heavily the air smelled of both rotting vegetation and a variety of creatures whose odors were not immediately familiar to him. Amid these strange odors was one that dominated the rest. After several deep breaths, he realized that this “odor” was not like the others, but tied into his ability to scent magic.

  “It is not new magic,” he explained to Firekeeper, who stood next to him, scanning the darkness with her night-seeing eyes, “such as when a new working has just been done. This is older, a deep scent like that which lingers even in midsummer in a den where bears slept all the winter before.”

  “I am nose dead,” Firekeeper stated with her usual resignation, “twice so when the scent is that of magic, old or new, but I will admit to being curious. Shall we look for its source before we go back? I neither see nor hear nor—even, as best as I can—smell any fresh human scent. I think we are safe to prowl, especially if we are very careful.”

  Blind Seer took a deep sniff of the warm, damp air. The only human scent he caught was stale, nor did there seem to be any large creatures about. That didn’t mean this place was “safe,” but it should mean that he and his Firekeeper could scout further without fearing immediate attack.

  “Why not? The others were told a quick return would mean we were fleeing some danger, that if we found no immediate threat, we would go further afield.”

  This was not said so much in words, but in his tossing his head up to catch the air-carried scents, down to find those that lingered in the soil. Firekeeper understood him, as she had from when he was a chubby pup and she a lanky starveling Little Two-Legs. Unlike humans, neither felt the need to remind the other to be careful. Taking care was not second nature to them, but the reason they remained alive.

  They also did not need to discuss how Firekeeper would be alert to their more general environment, permitting Blind Seer to focus both on his ability to trail magic and to use his sharper senses. Wolves automatically divided tasks. Why else bother hunting in a pack?

  As Blind Seer gave his attention to finding the source of the magical scent that had so permeated the area, he was aware of another unfamiliar sensation, touching lightly on the edges of his awareness. Faint and distant, it seemed neither urgent nor threatening, so he put it aside to investigate later. There was only so much a pack of two could do. As the proverb said, “Winter packs are larger for a reason.” He only hoped that he was correct in feeling that they remained in summer and had not, despite the heat and damp, crossed to where winter rules should be abided by.

  Firekeeper was unsurprised that the place the gate had brought them reminded her in many ways of the ruins of the university in Azure Towers. One of the first things they had learned about gates was that they were expensive to build—requiring a huge amount of mana, as well as enchanters skilled in all manner of abstruse spells. Even after the gates were built, an ability to use magic was required to operate them. For this reason, most gates had been constructed in locations that were both central to a population and associated with the use of magic. When asked, Kalyndra had said that this Nalrmyna had not been a university—quite—more a place for those who were already advanced in their skills and desired a place where they could research further developments.

  Nalrmyna was special for another reason. Since Tey-yo’s warm, damp climate bred disease and parasites, higher ground was coveted, even by those who had access to the best protections from sickness, protections Kalyndra had already placed upon the exploration team. Higher ground was also often more comfortable, less inclined toward flooding, and offered other benefits that Firekeeper didn’t quite understand. She did understand one that Kalyndra had not mentioned: high ground permitted one to see a great distance and was easier to defend. However, if the enemy was strong enough, it could also mean the defenders would find themselves trapped.

  This had been the fate of Tey-yo’s elite sorcerers when querinalo came. As in Azure Towers, in Nalrmyna everywhere one looked there remained evidence of the violence that had taken place. Unlike in Azure Towers, here a riot of green growing things had covered much of the destruction. Firekeeper was reminded somewhat of the islands of Misheemnekuru, off the coast of the land of Liglim, and took great care lest she and Blind Seer tumble into a cellar or other subterranean remnant of the dwellings that had been here.

  Another way in which Nalrmyna differed from Azure Towers was that there was evidence that the ruins had been not so much rebuilt as repurposed by later residents. Sometimes one or more walls that had not completely collapsed had been used as the basis for a new structure, making for some very oddly shaped dwellings. The young trees that had thrust up from among the ruins had been cut back, their trunks and limbs used to make roofs. Firekeeper thought that some of these rebuilt dwellings were still occasionally used but, from the new growth sprouting along paths, even draped across doorways and windows, she knew they had been vacant for some time.

  As the two wolves moved across the cluttered landscape, Firekeeper caught glimpses of several possibly dangerous beasts, including a spotted wild cat and a very alert reptile with impressive teeth, but not even these little rulers of the wilderness chose to challenge the intruding wolves.

  And that shows how very sensible they are, Firekeeper thought with satisfaction.

  Aware that the little poisoners—snakes and insects—would lurk among the buildings, Blind Seer kept them to the curved paths. This made their progress anything but direct. Nonetheless, each time he had a choice of turnings, he chose the way that would take them closer to something that bulked large enough to block the view of the stars. Eventually, Firekeeper’s night-adapted eyes discerned that this was not a cluster of boulders or a hillside, but rather a structure far less ruined than the majority that had once crowded this plateau.

  When the wolves were a handful of paces away, they stopped in wordless accord. Broad, shallow steps led up to a columned portico that supported a triangular façade. Behind this, the building proper extended long and flat, without windows, and only one large door. Although the façade made it difficult to judge for certain, Firekeeper thought the structure was several stories high—and there was no way to tell how far it went underground. She sniffed, but to her nose it smelled no more alive than any of the other buildings, and she wondered why none of the local creatures had taken up residence within. She also wondered what purpose it might have served for the humans who had built it.

  “A temple, perhaps?” Firekeeper suggested, tilting her head to one side to study the building’s façade. Heavily inscribed with a host of intertwined, highly stylized carvings, it recalled to her the temples she had seen in other lands.

  Temples and the religions they stood for were a concept
Firekeeper still had to work her mind around. Neither the wolves who had raised her, nor the Beasts who had been their neighbors, had the concept of deities. There was a wolf proverb that stated how wolves felt about expecting help from someone other than oneself or one’s pack: “Ask the wind. Ask the rain. Empty howling and wet fur are all you earn for your pain.” It had definitely been Firekeeper’s great good fortune that the first humans she had met had been from Hawk Haven, where religious intervention was requested of somewhat nebulous divine forces through the intermediary of a person’s ancestors. It had been a while before she realized that the people Derian, Elise, and other of her new human friends spoke about asking for help were dead—and, to the wolf way of thinking—gone.

  However, Firekeeper had learned a great deal about temples, religion, and related matters during her, initially involuntary, residence in Liglim, where every aspect of life was centered around a complicated pantheon. She had come to accept this aspect of human culture. There were even times she thought it might be restful to believe there were divine forces who, if asked just right, would provide solutions for life’s more complicated problems. However, in Firekeeper’s deepest heart, the wolf way, even if humans thought it cold and disheartening, was the only one that spoke to her.

  “Temple?” Blind Seer sniffed the air. “Perhaps. Certainly, there was something about this place that caused those who wrecked the rest of the settlement to leave this one building intact. What damage has been done to it has been done by the passing of time and lack of caretaking, not through intent. More interesting, the ‘scent’ I told you about is strongest here—as are various human odors. Shall we see what is inside?”

  Firekeeper dropped her hand onto his back by way of answer. Side by side, they mounted the wide, shallow staircase that led to an enormous door. This, from a distance, appeared to be closed but, close up, proved to stand open wide enough for them to slip through one at a time. Blind Seer went first. Firekeeper followed only after a slight swish of his tail told her the way was clear. Once inside, they found themselves in a large open room shaped like an elongated oval. The floor was mostly covered in dead leaves and other wind-carried detritus, damp enough to be softly rotted but not unpleasant.

  Staircases leading both up and down radiated off of this central area. Other than these, there were no exits. A rounded counter stood in the center of the room, where the pupil would have been in an eye. Blind Seer ignored this, so Firekeeper did as well, trusting that his nose for scents natural and supernatural would be their best guide.

  After a brief pause during which Blind Seer cast around for scents, and Firekeeper studied their surroundings, Blind Seer huffed softly and led the way to the staircase going up, to the left and more to the rear of the chamber. The treads were made of stone and seemed solid, although weather-stained on the lowest reaches. They trotted up, neither feet nor paws making any sound to break the silence. At the top of the staircase, the stone tiles of the floor were hardly littered, nor was there evidence that even a small songbird had nested in this sheltered place. This made Firekeeper uneasy, but as Blind Seer continued to move briskly along she followed, slowing when he did not check for possible traps or weak parts in the floor.

  “I think this should be a safe trail,” the blue-eyed wolf replied, her hesitation like words to him. “Not because I boast upon myself for my wisdom or think that I know each and every one of the myriad ways traps can be laid for the unwary. Not that. We have a more interesting guide. I have found a faint scent trail, protected by the building although it is not new: Kalyndra, Skea, and Ynamynet. I think it will be interesting to be guided by how straight and directly they made their way. I think they came to Nalrmyna not only to seek others of their kind, but for another reason. Shall we see if we can guess what brought them here, hotfoot and without concern for their safety?”

  Firekeeper grunted soft acknowledgement. So Kalyndra had not told them the entire truth about that previous, disastrous visit to Tey-yo. Unlike a human, Firekeeper did not speculate aloud, but waited until Blind Seer had guided them along corridor and cross corridor, through doors that certainly had been kept closed until recently but now stood open, as if whatever they had protected no longer needed protection. Glancing at these portals as they passed through, she thought that at least one would have been very hard to detect if it had been properly closed.

  Eventually, their trail ended in a small, windowless room, unfurnished except for a deep hole set into the floor. The tile that would have covered the hole had been pulled to one side, revealing that the compartment was completely empty.

  “So I expected,” Blind Seer said. “As a rabbit’s den can still reek of rabbit after the rabbit has fled, so this place continued to reek of whatever this was long after it was gone.”

  “The source of that magical aura you sensed was here?” Firekeeper asked, surprised. The hole seemed very small and insignificant.

  “It was but…” Blind Seer shook himself hard. “Why ask questions of the air when there is someone who knows far more than she is telling?”

  “Yes,” Firekeeper agreed. “Let us go back to the Nexus Islands and speak with Kalyndra.”

  Laria jumped to her feet when Firekeeper and Blind Seer transitioned back from Tey-yo. She’d been waiting with Wythcombe, Ranz, and Kalyndra near the gate, and they were just beginning to speculate whether something might have happened to the wolves. When the wolves returned, Laria had anticipated varied possibilities, from Firekeeper motioning for them to pick up their gear and depart, to one of several reasons for delay. What she didn’t expect was for Firekeeper to turn her dark eyes squarely upon Kalyndra, her gaze accusing, her voice huskier than usual.

  “So. Why you not tell us about the magical thing—the artifact? The one you went back to check on at Nalrmyna? What was it? And who you think took it?”

  Kalyndra’s initial expression of astonishment changed to one that might even have been amused. “I knew that Blind Seer had a keen nose for magic, but to scent a magical item that is no longer there? I am impressed.”

  “Blind Seer say,” Firekeeper translated, “that this artifact have a strong scent, much stronger than the one in the stone lattice in Azure Towers. He asks if you know why this would be.”

  Blind Seer tilted his head to one side, his ears flickering back. Laria didn’t need to have Firekeeper’s gift for speaking to the Beasts to know that he was adding, “And don’t try to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  Kalyndra didn’t. “From what Wythcombe has speculated about the artifact Kabot stole before he vanished, the stone lattice probably served to contain the artifact’s power. That would mean that its aura would have been kept close, as the scent of cut garlic can be contained within a tightly sealed container. The artifact that was kept at Nalrmyna may once have been shielded, but by the time I knew of it, those shields had long been broken.”

  Firekeeper nodded. “Ah… Blind Seer says this explains why the entire plateau stank of it. Not a bad smell, although one very hard to explain. But garlic dries out and stops smelling after a time. Did this not dry out, then?”

  Kalyndra looked uneasy. “It did and then it was—to use the garlic metaphor, although we are stretching it to the point of distorting the meaning—rehydrated. I’d guess, although my gifts do not incline that way, that this may have caused it to ‘stink’ again.”

  “What was it?” Ranz asked, deeply interested. “And who has it now?”

  Kalyndra sighed. “It’s a complicated story. Wythcombe wants to get on Kabot’s trail. Do we delay for a story or shall I tell it when we have more time?”

  “Is not knowing likely to increase our danger?” Wythcombe asked.

  Kalyndra considered. “I don’t think so. Actually, I think that we’d be in greater danger if Kabot gets his hands on the artifact first.”

  “Then we go,” Firekeeper said, “but I wish to hear this story—and I wish to know why you not tell us, and the Nexans, the truth sooner.�
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  Laria’s hand rested on the hilt of Volsyl as she walked through the gate, but the ruins remained empty of any human threat. Once their group was through, Kalyndra indicated a broad roadway that was mostly clear, although the gaps between the paving stones were interrupted with tufts of grass and the occasional small shrub.

  Wythcombe murmured a few words, creating a light that flew in front of them, its glow soft and hooded so that it illuminated where they walked without creating a beacon that would draw attention. The wolves took point, clearly not wishing to have their night vision spoiled even a little. Laria and Ranz dropped to the rear, Farborn riding on Laria’s pack so he could watch behind them. Kalyndra had warned them that there were night predators who would find even as fierce a merlin as Farborn a tasty morsel.

  “The trail down from the plateau begins at the end of this road,” Kalyndra said. “Since the wolves did not sense any humans here, nor any large predators, I suggest we descend while we have darkness for cover. Come daylight, we would be quite visible.”

  No one disagreed, but there was something in Firekeeper’s silence that prompted Kalyndra to begin speaking again, “And while we walk, I can tell you more about what happened, both when we made our return here, and before that.”

  “Good,” Firekeeper said. “If you keep your voice low, we wolves will hear, both you and anything that may come after us—although this place is strangely without the larger predators. I would think at least one of the solitary big cats would find enough hunting here.”