A Wolf Story

by James Byron Huggins

  Incomel’s hateful eyes focused hard and Windgate felt an incarnate power sweep over him, as if the mountain lion had reached out and struck him with the heat of its infernal soul. But the hare did not move, remaining resolute and defiant, staring down at the beast with implacable eyes.

  For a flashing instant Incomel's suspicious gaze scanned the rest of the darkened rim, almost as if he had been nervously prepared for an ambush, ready to meet some long-dreaded attack. A scowl turned the corners of Windgate's mouth as he considered the trap they had laid for the beast.

  The lion had good reason to be afraid.

  And yet the growl that trembled the cliff face revealed no trace of terror. Undaunted, Windgate smiled down at the lion and cast his words with contempt.

  "Doom is upon you, Incomel!" he shouted. "I am Windgate, king of the Colony near the Deep Woods, a servant of the Lightmaker! I challenge you!"

  Exploding in a sweeping rush up the mountainside, the lion closed the distance between them with blinding speed. And though Windgate had seen Incomel fight before, he had not anticipated such awesome, unnatural power and strength. The lion was halfway up the cliff before Windgate could even react, its devastating roar ascending before it.

  And then Windgate moved - moved with a blinding spin and a rush along the plateau, leaping with all the strength of his powerful legs for the treacherous safety of the narrow ledge. But even as he rushed forward the lion roared over the cliff edge, having cleared the steep face in rapid bounds.

  Overcome by the beast's surpassing speed, Windgate leapt frantically for the thin ledge. And as he neared his escape route, another thunderous roar shattered the ice of the plateau and Windgate felt the hot breath of the lion upon him. Then the big hare recklessly threw himself upon the narrow edge of the icy ledge, spinning and grasping wildly as he slid toward the chasm. For a moment he swung along the very edge of the precipice, then struck a slice of ice and was looking down on a sea of white clouds. Windgate bellowed, wildly struck something unknown, and was spun back around to dig desperate claws into the black ice.

  Breathing hard, unable to speak, unable to think, Windgate tried to recover his racing heart, balancing himself precariously on the unforgiving ice. And after an instant, when his throat had cleared to breathe, he looked wide-eyed at Incomel, smiling mockingly.

  The lion stood at the edge of the plateau, fiery eyes seething with rage, frustrated by Windgate's narrow escape, but reluctant to pursue along the ledge. Even with its anchoring talons, the narrow course would be a dangerous and tedious task, testing balance and strength together with no surviving a mistake.

  Windgate stared at the great dark form and sneered.

  "Too slow, beast!" he taunted. "Even Baalkor gave me a better run!"

  Windgate bounded forward even as the lion roared, tensing to leap. And he was desperately scampering out of range as the colossal form collided against the cliff, its deafening roar thundering along the wall. Windgate risked a quick glance backwards to see that the lion was moving slowly after him on the narrow ledge, talons grasping securely at the black ice. And the hare bounded forward at the sight, defiantly determined to lure the beast to the hidden cave.

  At the curve that hid the cleft, Windgate paused, turning, and saw that the lion was already upon him, hideous jaws gaping. The beast seemed to consider the big hare's curious maneuver as an act of surrender, and it smiled. But Windgate continued to retreat, drawing the beast carefully toward the cave.

  The ledge was all but lost in the defeated light and Windgate backed cautiously around the curve, allowing the lion to move even closer to him. And in moments it stood barely short of the cavern entrance, its fierce pride imperiously cloaking the dark visage.

  "You are a fool!" it snarled, breathing blasts of black frost into the night. "Why does your kind still try to resist the Dark Lord? Don't you realize that we are superior? You and your kind are lost in dreams and visions! In fantasies that give you no power! You are weak! Your God is weak! That is why we shall destroy you from the Earth!"

  Only a small step remained before Incomel stood in front of the cave but Windgate knew that nothing could be done until the beast made that final move. The hare stepped silently back, forcing the lion to move closer in order to strike its killing blow. And with the step Incomel also began to advance, then halted in midstride.

  Incomel's feral eyes narrowed, suspicious, and Windgate realized that the lion, even though it could not yet see the cave, had somehow sensed a hidden threat. Motionless, unable to comprehend its sudden, disturbing fear, Incomel poised on the ledge. And Windgate knew he would have to move quickly or all would be lost.

  Flesh shaking from the tension of the conflict, the hare searched for words that would cause the lion to complete its attack. Only moments remained, for even as they stood, Windgate could see Incomel considering a quick retreat.

  "I saw you in the Abyss!" Windgate said scornfully. "I know you're afraid of the old wolf!"

  A tension suddenly stiffened Incomel's powerful form.

  "Ha!" Windgate spat. "You are the true weakling, Incomel! Your flesh is strong but you're afraid of a wolf! Ha! A wolf! Proud Incomel is afraid of a wolf!"

  Within the lion's eyes a volcanic wrath emerged, and Windgate could see its caution swept aside by the demonic powers dominating its flesh.

  "Kill me if you can!" Windgate screamed, striking wildly at the lion, startling the beast with his impetuous attack. Then the big hare desperately leapt back. But Incomel was lightning and pounced upon him, landing fully in front of the cave.

  Even as the lion leapt, Gianavel exploded, roaring, from the cleft. And though the wolf moved with blinding speed, the lion was faster, whirling to meet the attack, lashing out with a powerful blow that struck Gianavel's shoulder. The old wolf staggered, but his momentum carried his headlong rush, and he collided with the lion on the edge of the precipice in an avalanche of ice and snow that blasted Windgate wildly along the ledge.

  Fangs struck fangs as the two massive shapes clinched and closed in a thunderous embrace, roaring and slashing with killing grace. Windgate smashed into the icy wall and rebounded toward the chasm, clawing desperately for a grip. Screaming, even as he slid over the edge, Windgate finally caught hold, hanging tenaciously onto the ledge. He looked up frantically to see Gianavel fighting with his back to the wall, and Incomel slashing fiercely for balance on the narrow ice.

  Struggling with volcanic strength, Incomel’s giant shoulders strained to throw Gianavel from the tactical advantage. And Windgate watched, spellbound, as Gianavel locked against the lion with savage resistance, countering its wrath with an equal brand of titanic strength. Slowly, frozen in that dark majesty of might, they rocked forward and back on the edge of the precipice; demonic power incarnate straining violently against a holy force forged long ago from spirit and flesh.

  Incomel's rear talons slashed deep grooves in the ice, digging desperately for leverage. But Windgate thought he perceived, even in the slow rocking of the embrace, a slight slipping of the monster's grip. And the lion's eyes widened, as if it sensed, finally, a terrible deliverance to some inescapable judgment, long dreaded and long delayed.

  Roaring, Gianavel's fangs tore free from Incomel's black coat, and the old wolfs eyes blazed with his words.

  "Die as you've lived!" Gianavel snarled.

  With a powerful effort, the old wolf twisted violently, and Incomel's talons snapped sharply off the edge, the dark form thrown sidelong across the ledge. A long foreleg lashed out, striking the ice with shattering force, but the lion's great weight had already descended beneath the rim. Face flaming in fear, the beast had time for one terrifying, high-pitched scream, as talons tore futile furrows in the ice, before it was gone.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Silently, Windgate stood beside Gianavel, staring , down into the chasm that had claimed the beast. But the darkness and the misting clouds concealed the true depth of the ravine.

  The hare had listened carefull
y for the sound of Incomel's death at the base of the cliff, but no noise, however distant, had returned to the cavern entrance where they still stood.

  Impulsively, Windgate kicked a chunk of ice from the ledge and scowled over the edge.

  "I hope it was painful," he said.

  Gianavel looked down at him, the gray eyes glazed with pain. Suddenly concerned, Windgate saw that the old wolfs shoulder was torn from a deep slash, with other cuts bleeding in the ragged mane. Then Windgate studied Gianavel's stern face and saw iron control wrestling to subdue the agony of those ravaging wounds, and the hare wondered how much longer the old wolfs strength could endure.

  "What will we do now?" he asked.

  "We can't wait any longer for the pack," Gianavel replied, and sighed. "We'll have to go in and find Aramus and his friend. And then we can try to escape into the forest. Perhaps if we can get into the woods, we'll meet the pack halfway."

  The old wolf raised his head, gazing into the dark' ness, as if searching, before he spoke again.

  "But it's night and Baalkor is returning if he hasn't already. So we have to go, and trust that the Lightmaker will make our way clear."

  Windgate nodded.

  "We will see what God will do," he said quietly.

  *

  twelve

  The guardians of the Abyss tracked the hare's scent through the stone corridor, growling and cursing the creature that had secretly entered their demonic domain.

  Angry, suspicious, they hunted until they neared an all-but-forgotten section of the underground fortress: a long, jagged tunnel that led deep across the mountain to a dead and darkened end. Strangely, though, the air flowed more freely as they moved slowly forward, and the scent of snow was fresh in the dusky air.

  Murderous eyes gleaming, the dark wolves explored the chamber, intent in their singular purpose to kill the intruder. But they neither saw nor sensed a presence beside them in the cave. Wolf scents were strong and fresh everywhere in the cavern, even here, and revealed nothing unusual. Yet when they discovered the unguarded and unknown entrance, framed by night, the wolves noticed the tracks in the heavy snow; tracks of a wolf and a hare.

  Staring at the lightning-torn sky, they did not see the massive shape behind them. While they gazed out into the darkness, it moved silently from the gloom at the far end of the tunnel, shadowed by a hare that moved with equal stealth. And in a moment the ghostly shapes were gone, disappearing into the corridor beyond.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Aramus sensed the spirit long before he heard the quiet footfalls, his heart lifting with his silver eyes toward the darkened doorway. And in a moment the great gray wolf was there, inspiring and august, a faint smile gracing the aged face.

  Aramus was beside his father before he even realized he had moved, and the old wolf nuzzled his neck affectionately, filling him with warmth and strength. But as they stood close, Aramus caught the scent of blood, and saw the massive wounds that marked his father's gray mane. Alarmed eyes looked intently at Gianavel, but the old wolf only shook his head, despising both the wounds and their power over him. And then Aramus caught the scent of Incomel.

  "Incomel—" he began.

  "Is dead," Gianavel said coldly. "He died as he lived – in violence and pain. And now the Lightmaker will judge him for what he has done."

  Aramus closed his eyes, breathing easier knowing that the beast was dead. And then he remembered Corbis.

  "This is a trap!" he whispered fiercely. "I told Windgate to warn you! They brought me here to lure you from the mountain so they can kill you!"

  "I know," said Gianavel. "But I'm not going to die until the Lightmaker allows me to die. Windgate is searching the Abyss for your friend, the bear. I will wait here with you until he finds him. Then we'll all try and escape together."

  "But what if the guards return and discover us?"

  "We'll deal with that when the time comes," said the old wolf. "But we won't lay down our lives to these fools."

  Aramus stared at his father, estimating their chances.

  "Are the Elders with you?" he asked.

  "No," Gianavel replied. "We are alone. But the Lightmaker will deliver us."

  Aramus glanced at the chamber door, breathing deeply. He felt charged for combat, even though they were heavily outnumbered. And when darkening thoughts arose in his mind, they were instantly cast down by the spirit that had recreated his heart and mind, strengthening him for the task.

  Gianavel seemed to sense the change in his son, and Aramus watched the gray eyes focus upon him. "Your suffering has made you strong," said the old wolf. "I'm proud of you. You haven't turned away from what you believe. You stood the test of faith. You endured your suffering. Even in your pain, you did what you knew was right."

  Gianavel hesitated, his eyes softening. And Aramus saw the true depth of love reflected in that aged face.

  "We don't have much time, so words will be few," said his father. "But I may not survive this fight. And I've waited all your life to tell you what is on my heart."

  With silver eyes gleaming, Aramus looked at the old gray wolf.

  "From the day you were born, from the day your mother and I first looked upon you, we knew that you were here for a purpose. And I have feared for you, because I knew that the Lightmaker would make you strong so you could fulfill that purpose. And strength must be bought at a price.

  "On the night that you saved Saul, I knew the Lightmaker was beginning a work within you. Even then, I knew that the old hare's death was not without reason. And I knew that there would be more to come, more suffering, more pain, until your heart and mind would be renewed. And I knew that it would be difficult for you. But I've prayed for you, hoping that when the dark night had finally passed, you would stand strong in the light. And I know that my prayers have been answered. You don't need me anymore. Your true life has begun. And the Lightmaker has many things he will want you to do, and you will do them by the strength within you."

  Gianavel's gray head bent with his words, and the keen eyes clouded.

  "We may have to fight to escape, but if I fall, don't come back for me. You must survive. You must escape.

  I am old, and I've lived my life. But you're young, and your life is still before you. So you must live. But no matter what happens, always remember how much your father loved you."

  Silver eyes gazed upon the old wolf, and Gianavel moved closer, devoted and loving. And for a long moment they stood, affectionate and embracing, and Aramus realized that these were the moments he had always cherished the most, the quiet moments when his father was soft and spoke through his heart. Aramus closed his eyes, feeling the warmth, the love, of the old wolf. And he knew the moment would live forever within him, even as Saul lived within him.

  Frantic sounds in the corridor made them turn.

  Gianavel had moved even before Aramus reacted. And when Aramus turned he saw Windgate standing, breathless, barely inside the room. The big hare was exhausted, struggling to speak.

  "Wolves!" he panted, gasping. "Everywhere! I never thought ... I'd make it!"

  Gianavel leapt lightly to the door, peered out, and turned to the big hare. "Where's the bear?" he growled, ignoring Windgate's wild gesturing.

  Windgate returned a shocked stare.

  "Oh, thank you ... Yes, I'm fine ... Thank you for asking."

  Aramus gazed in astonishment as they scowled, like old friends, at one another. And he wondered briefly what strange ordeal had forged this bond.

  Then Gianavel smiled down at the hare. "Good. I'm glad you're fine. Now where is the bear?"

  Windgate pointed, exhausted, down the hall.

  "But the wolves ... know something. It's not like it was last night. This place is crawling with wolves. A bunch of them are guarding the bear. And a bunch more ... are coming this way. I think Baalkor is with them."

  "Let's move," said Gianavel, casting them both a stern glance before he looked again at Windgate.

  "Take us to the bear.
"

  *

  thirteen

  Silently Windgate led them down one corridor, and another, and at the sound of a patrol they leapt together into yet another shadowed tunnel that led only into another gloomy chamber. Aramus, mane bristling with tension, looked over his shoulder, wondering why the dark wolves had not already discovered Windgate by scent.

  "Why aren't they hunting you by scent?" he whispered harshly.

  "They are hunting me by scent!" Windgate replied, eyes gleaming fiercely. "But I've been all over this place! Ha! My scent is in every one of these halls! Let's see 'em hunt that!"

  Then the big hare was moving again, Gianavel and Aramus close behind. Windgate moved quickly but quietly, always finding a way through the treacherous, echoing halls that were slowly awakening with roars and monstrous shapes.

  Guardians of the Abyss, clearly alerted to some invading force, were stalking, enraged, through the mazelike halls adjacent to the throne of Corbis. And Aramus sometimes caught sight of horrific shadows swaying eerily upon distant walls, wavering in the gloom for a long, threatening instant, before disappearing again into the cavernous shadows.

  Aramus was vaguely amazed as he experienced in action the deeper strength that had come upon him. For even as he moved he felt a power working within, a power that went strangely beyond flesh. It seemed almost as if the entire essence of his heart, mind, and spirit had been transformed, enabling him to understand and overcome the weaknesses of his flesh. He knew a certain fear, but it was a dim, thin fear, overwhelmed by the force upon him, an empowering force that cleared his thoughts and cloaked him with a boldness, within and without.

  Suddenly, without warning or sound, Windgate halted before a corner, Aramus and Gianavel a mirror of the hare's stance. Creeping forward with silent steps, Windgate cast a careful look around the curving black wall, then slid back cautiously. Eyes wide with excitement, he pointed, indicating the direction of Kaleel's holding place. And Gianavel moved forward to glance narrowly down the hall, then also eased back.