by Heath Pfaff
"Tyvel?" Malice called, but the ghost did not answer. I guessed that he had returned to his box, unwilling to take part in what he felt was a great mistake. I was just as happy to have him gone for the time being. I told myself that I would apologize later, if a good situation arose for me to do so.
"That was foolish of you, Lowin. He would have been a great deal of help to us. . . to me." Her voice wavered at the end, and I turned to face her only to see that her eyes were clouded with tears. She looked away and drew her hood low.
"We will be fine." I told her, and reached a hand out to clasp her shoulder. She dodged away from my outstretched palm, and walked out from under the tree that was our camp site.
"I'll carry Tyvel along with us, in case he decides to be of some help to us later. Let us go." The green-eyed warrior's voice was quiet, weary, and burdened, but she would have no part of any comfort I might offer. I supposed I understood why. I was not making life easy on her.
I grabbed my own pack from the ground and ran to catch up with her. She was moving at a slow pace, so it didn't take long.
"Shouldn't we be going faster?" I asked, after we'd been walking for several minutes.
"It doesn't matter at this point." She answered. "They'll come to us when they want to. How fast we travel makes no difference. They're watching us already."
I scanned the landscape, though it was difficult to see far amidst the hilly turf cluttered by long grass and brush. That problem was intensified by the light morning fog. I didn't doubt that Malice was correct, but I saw no sign that anyone was watching us. What more, I didn't feel as though I was being watched. We walked on in wary silence. We didn't have to go far. We reached the crest of a hill, and suddenly all around us it seemed that the very grass was coming alive. I soon realized why I had been unable to make out the Kaziem Wolves earlier.
As the first of them drew close enough for me to see clearly, I noted that they were large creatures, the biggest wolves I had ever seen. Their fur was as green as the grass through which they moved. It seemed to be intermixed with sprouts of longer fur that resembled the occasional stray strand of long grass common in the foothills. Their fur even fanned out at its edges in places, appearing like open blossoms of mature hay. They were very well adapted to their environment. Other than their strange green fur, they seemed much like other wolves in appearance, with long sleek bodies, powerfully built for speed and stealth. They filled in around us, seeming to not exist until the moment at which they emerged from their verdant surroundings.
I tried to count them as they came, but they moved in a wide circle around us, and I lost count after eleven. Finally they stopped circling, and seemingly on cue, they all sat or lay down in their places. One more figure emerged from the grass, this one larger than the others, its fur streaked with lines of brown amidst the green. This wolf had large golden eyes, both feral and somehow tranquil. It walked through the circle created by the other wolves and approached us, stopping a few feet away before sitting down on its powerful haunches to look us over.
I was unsure what should happen next, so I kept my mouth shut, and tried my best to appear calm and relaxed. I wasn't sure what to expect from the wolves. It seemed best for me to take my cues from Malice, who was, at least on the exterior, calm. She had not spoken, so I kept quiet as well.
The golden-eyed wolf spoke in a voice that was rough for the shape of the mouth it had to work with, but still maintained a grace and eloquence of tongue that carried a definitive feminine quality. "You are pleasantly welcomed, gods of wolf and men. . .especially you, Lady Laouna. We did not think to see you in the Hunting Lands again."
I wondered for a moment if the wolf had mistaken Malice for someone else, but my green-eyed companion replied, dispelling any such notion. I realized that, for the first time, I had heard Malice's true name - the one that she had carried before becoming a Knight of Ethan.
"I did not think I would return, Whisper of the Mist, but I have brought one who wishes to offer the inheritance of blood." Malice answered, and at her reply a rumble of growls and yips circled us, as though the Kaziem Wolves were communicating, in their own language, excitedly. Whisper of the Mist, the large wolf that had spoken to us already, raised her voice once more, and the other wolves went quiet.
"It has been long since the walking gods came to honor us so." The green and brown wolf moved closer to us, approaching me until she was within an arms span from where I stood. She lifted her nose to the air. "He is strong of body, stout of character, but this mortal god smells of blood and. . ." Whisper of the Mist broke off and padded towards Malice, her nose raised. ". . .and vengeance. You both smell of it. Despair hangs heavily upon you both, and something else." She scented the air again. "There is a third. You are not but two, there is a third of you. Where is this third, and why can't we see him?"
"That is Tyvel. He is a specter, the remnant of a man who died long ago. He is our companion, though he does not wish to take part in the inheritance of blood." Malice explained.
Whisper of the Mist snorted in what I took to be wolfish laughter. "He is no specter, no ghost. I know only too well the smell of things once dead. It is a scent of the spoiled earth, for they are things of earth that do not rest. This is a different smell. This third is alive, but far away, like the smell of a pack mate who has spent long in one place, only to leave for many years. The smell remains, though it is faint."
I looked to Malice, and saw that she was looking back at me. If Whisper of the Mist was correct, what did that imply about Tyvel? Was he not what he'd told us, or was the Kaziem Wolf wrong? Did Tyvel not understand what he was? They were important questions, but questions for another time because Malice and I both knew it would not be right to question Whisper of the Mist at that point.
". . .but this is no matter of mine. The Kaziem are not interested in things of no substance, but we are interested - very interested - in the inheritance of blood." The large green wolf padded back towards me. She came close enough that her massive head, which was well above my waist, brushed against me, as did the side of her body, and finally her tail as she passed. I did not move. She turned to face me.
"What are you called, god who walks upon the land?" The wolf asked.
I wasn't sure whether to give her my birth name, or that calling which I'd been given by Lucidil. I thought of how the wolf had used Malice's real name, and made my decision based upon that. Besides, "Noble" had always felt like a name I didn't deserve to carry, and that hadn't changed.
"I am Lowin, Whisper of the Mist." I said, my voice as respectful as I could make it.
"So you are, Lord Lowin, god of men and wolves." She said. "As you spoke, I am Whisper of the Mist, the Alpha female of this pack of nomad hunters, and these are the lands we range to hunt. Welcome to our home, young god."
"I am honored to be here, Whisper of the Mist." I said, wanting to ask so many questions at that moment, but not wanting to offend the wolf matriarch.
The wolf snorted in laughter again. "You wear your soul upon your face. You may ask your questions, Lord Lowin. We do not horde our secrets like the creatures of brick and steel. If we do not tell others what we know, how is one to learn?"
I breathed a sigh of relief, for my natural curiosity had been piqued as it had not been in a long time. "How is it you came to speak the language of men?" I asked my first question, starting with the one of least importance.
"We learned to speak the language of men from those who birthed the language of men, men themselves." Whisper of the Mist replied. "You see, once we were brothers to the men, hunting at their side, and fighting tooth to sword, tail to hip, to spread and defend our shared lands. Men, though, were rotten creatures.
"Our pack was led by a male then, a strong wolf named Beneath the Starless Night, and he was brother-close to a man by the name of Turilt Felm. When Beneath the Starless Night and his mate had their first litter of pups, the brave wolf, in honor of his friendship, gave into Turilt Felm's care his first born
son. He said to Turilt, 'Keep my son safe in your care, and he will grow strong and wise in your ways, and be a nobler companion to you than any.' and Turilt swore that he would do so. Beneath the Starless Night left to care for his pups as they grew, but promised to return when the pups of the litter were old enough to hunt on their own.
"Months passed, as men reckon them, and Beneath the Starless Night came back to see his first born son, to find out of his progress and to learn of how his friend Turilt was progressing, but when Beneath the Starless Night came to Turilt's home, he could not smell the scent of his offspring. Worried, he went searching for Turilt, and finally found the man chopping wood in his backyard.
"'Where is my son?' he bade Turilt answer, and the man looked at him and replied, 'That dog bit my daughter, and so I had to put him down, lest he grow a taste for blood and be a danger to us.' Beneath the Starless Night was furious, not only that the man had killed his pup, but that he had dared refer to the poor child as a 'dog,' as though it were only some pet. 'He was but a pup, and pups often know naught their own strength.' The broken-hearted wolf said, and to that Turilt turned his back. Beneath the Starless Night left and returned to his pack. That night the Kaziem Wolves came together to hunt, and they chased the humans from their homes and out of the lands in which they hunted. Beneath the Starless Night feasted upon the flesh of Turilt, but spared the man's daughter and wife, sufficing in chasing them away. Those humans, that race of men, became prey, but we have never forgotten the ways of their words, as we have never forgotten why they are prey to us. What else would you know?"
I found myself sympathizing more with the wolf than with the humans in Whisper's story. Turilt's actions were beyond redeeming, and I found it strange that the wolves spared his wife and daughter. It was, I believed, a far nobler thing to do than would have most men, and that from these creatures that humanity had deemed monsters. A great respect was beginning to grow in me for the Kaziem.
"Why have your kind not ranged further? I have read much, and heard many tales, but it was only recently in my life that I learned of your existence." I asked my next question. Before becoming a Knight of Ethan, I had been an apprentice loremaster, working for a library and aiding in the keeping of old stories. In all the time I had spent working there, I had never once heard of the Kaziem Wolves. It seemed to me that there would have been some record of these strange, intelligent, green wolves.
"We are few, Lord Lowin, and our numbers do not increase quickly. You see, only the alphas of our kind, one male and one female, and their single mates, are capable of having offspring, and they may only do so once, twice on rare occasion. As such, our numbers do not increase, and we do not need any more space then we already have. Men have fled this place, so we are uncontested and free to hunt and live as we will. To men, we are nothing more than monsters, and truly we would keep it so. Why range further afield and risk losing some of our valuable few?" Whisper of the Mist's reply was short and to the point, and again I was struck by how much sense it made.
It was time, I knew, to begin asking the two questions I most feared having answered. "You said the third of us, the one who is here but not, was not a ghost. Do you have any idea what he might actually be?"
Whisper of the Mist cocked her head to one side, as if studying me intently, and after a moment she laid down in the grass, looking up at me. "You are afraid of what I will say. This image, Tyvel you call it, has been a friend to you?"
I nodded for I feared to answer with my voice. I still wanted to believe that Tyvel didn't know that he was not a ghost, or that Whisper of the Mist was wrong about his nature. I knew with a certainty, however, that the aged wolf was not wrong. I needn't have proof of that fact because her words rang with truth, and her manner denied falsity.
"It is a sending, a scryling, the eye of someone far away sent to watch and gather information. These are the tools of men. When they are not with you, they are elsewhere. They are controlled by things called sleepers, men who should have died long ago, but have been sealed inside ancient magic, their lives forfeit to feed the spell, but so long as they sleep, they do not die. They are bound to as many as three artifacts, and may travel between them at will." The wolf paused, and after a moment added. "It is true, Lord Lowin. I am not a creature of deception."
I realized that I was shaking my head in negation and forced myself to stop. It wasn't that I didn't believe her; it was that I didn't want to believe her. It made sense in my heart, though. The truth was far too clear. How else could the king's men have found me so easily? No one had followed us. No one had tracked us down, because we had not left any sign to follow. They had not needed to do any such thing because Tyvel had known exactly where we were, and had lead them straight to us, even letting them know when it would be easiest to attack us, while Malice and I were out. I looked to Malice and saw my own anger reflected in her eyes. She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out the box.
"Tyvel, come out immediately!" She ordered the box, her voice grating like steel, but nothing happened.
"He cannot hear what is happening when he is not present." The alpha wolf said. "Until he chooses to come back, he is beyond your reach."
I saw Malice's fist closing on the box, her claws sharpening as her will to destroy it increased. I reached out to her and put a hand on her shoulder. This time she allowed me to do so. I took the box from her.
"I know what you are feeling. I know what you want to do," I said to her softly. "But he does not know that we are aware of his nature. That is our advantage." A single tear crept from one of Malice's eyes to trace a line down her cheek, and I wiped it off with as light a touch as I could manage.
"We trusted him, Lowin. He was a friend and he. . . Kay. . . Wisp. . ." She began, but I put a finger across her lips.
"I know, and he will pay, but for now we must remember that we are guests of the Kaziem Wolves. We must remain respectful." The words were hard for me. Remaining calm was difficult, but I knew I needed to keep myself relaxed if I was to win the respect of Whisper of the Mist and her pack, something I increasingly felt was important to my cause.
Malice, or as the wolf had named her, Laouna, took a deep breath, and stood up straight. She would hold strong, and I would do my best to match her composure. I put the box away in a pouch at my hip, struggling to resist the urge to rend it to splinters.
"You are strong, proud, both of you." Whisper of the Mist said. "I sense such pain, but you present a noble face, the stolid face of the pack. Gods of wolf and men, but the blood of wolves flows strong in you, mortal gods. Do you have another question?"
The wolf matron's words triggered my memory, for I had almost completely forgotten my final question, indeed, the one of most importance. Despite what we had learned of Tyvel, we still had a task to accomplish. I was as ready as I was going to be, and I hoped that Malice would be able to do her part. I believed that she could, because I believed in her strength and resolve.
"Forgive my ignorance, Whisper of the Mist, but I am not aware of the exact ritual of the inheritance of the blood. Might you tell me of the ceremony?" I asked, trepidation filling me.
"It is good that you asked, and better still that Lady Laouna did not forewarn you of the trial. It is not that I believe you would have been scared away, but this is a matter for us to discuss between ourselves, since it is to be our inheritance of the blood. You are aware of the stakes involved?" The wise wolf asked.
I nodded, knowing that, by necessity, lives would be on the line.
"Yet you came anyway, and that speaks highly in your favor. This ceremony is in multiple parts. The first part is that which we have already done. We meet you, we speak with you, we judge that you are worthy of mind and spirit to take part in this sacred practice. In this, I judge you worthy. The second part of the test is the test of rights.
"In the test of rights, you will fight one of us in a battle that will go on until one combatant can no longer continue. There are no bounds to his battle, as we fight
as one does in defending one's pack, with no rules to bind. Depending on your skills as a fighter compared to your opponent, this fight can go on for a long while, or be over in seconds.
"When a winner is finally chosen, the third part of the ceremony begins. The victor chooses the price of flesh to be awarded. This is generally the heart, as the heart is the center of a mortal creature's power and strength. We wolves consume the heart to gain our enemies potency, but the ways of the gods are far stranger, as I'm sure you're aware." Whisper of the Mist finished.
I was surprised to learn that I'd already been through a phase of judgment. I found myself suddenly ill at ease with the notion of killing one of the Kaziem Wolves. They were not monsters, unlike the Fell Beast I had killed to get my arms and legs. They were intelligent, almost magical creatures, which I felt had every bit as much a right to the world as I. Indeed, with their limited numbers, the world would whither with each passing of their kind.
"It is a fair contest, and one of our groups will be much stronger for it, and the other of our groups will have learned much. The inheritance of the blood, while a brutal custom, only helps strengthen those creatures who take part. Those who die are remembered always." Whisper of the Mist said, as though she read my worries and doubt. "We are honored to test our tooth against the claw of the gods. If there are not more questions, we will choose a combatant?"