Children of the Wolves

by Jessica Starre

  “Ay,” agreed Berquist the Carter. “I saw their warrior chief Marguerite fallen on the ground, and Jelena most bravely defended our village against them.”

  “When Rufus and Michael went in search of Jelena, Teresa most wickedly set about the rumor that Jelena and the others were being held by the Umluans, and spurred the riders to rescue her, leaving the village vulnerable to attack,” said Emma.

  “Ay,” said Danielle, pale but sturdy as she moved forward through the crowd. “I heard her so incite Charmaine. ‘You must do something,’ Teresa said to Charmaine. ‘You must take the riders and go! Are you a coward?’ This I heard her say.”

  “She trades with the Sithans,” Michael said. “But not for the betterment of the Wudu-faesten. No, it is only for the betterment of herself.”

  Colleen came forward and placed a wooden chest on the table. “At Michael’s request, I searched Teresa’s room for evidence of her crimes,” she attested. “And this is what I found.” She spilled open the chest, the precious stones from the vein Samuel had found streaming on to the table. They gleamed dully in the candlelight.

  Teresa gave Colleen a contemptuous look. “I simply hadn’t traded those yet. I had them on hand for my next meeting.”

  “Ay. Then you won’t be needing them because trade with the Sithans has been suspended,” Michael said.

  “Now wait a minute,” Maurice said, speaking up for the first time.

  Michael flicked him a glance. “We will get to you, old man. Never fear. We will get to you.” He turned to Colleen. “Colleen, perhaps you would be so kind as to distribute those stones to the villagers? After we’re done here, of course.”

  Colleen smiled and piled the stones back into the chest, shutting it and tucking it under her arm.

  “All you accused Jelena of, that you did yourself,” Michael said to Teresa. “You conspired to have me sent away. To look for caves where the saved could be moved. And you let the Sithan know that two members of the tribe would be alone on a journey. And you told them the route we would take. And they attacked and killed Rodrigo. And it is just as if you killed him with your own hands.”

  “I never did that.”

  “A moment,” Danielle interrupted. “You conspired to send Michael looking for a cave where the saved could be moved?”

  “I did help the elders see that we might need that information. Ay,” said Teresa, lifting her chin defiantly. “It was nothing they had not discussed among themselves already.”

  “You thought the Wudu-faesten should abandon their territory?”

  “With the attacks — ”

  “And leave the saved behind?”

  “That’s why the caves — ”

  “The Wudu-faesten will never abandon their land,” Danielle snarled. “And we will never leave our saved behind.”

  The rumbling in the crowd grew louder. Michael did not feel they had grasped the essential crimes, but so long as they grasped some, he would be satisfied.

  “As for the council,” Michael said. “They aided Teresa.”

  A collective gasp forced him to stop and wait for the commotion to die down. Maurice tried to get to his feet but a villager was there to ensure that he stayed seated and kept his peace.

  “They listened to her lies,” Michael said. “They refused to believe it was the Sithan attacking our village. They demanded that I blame the wolves. They refused to authorize fortifications for our defense. They refused to recruit and train more riders. They would not hear of training each of the villagers in basic defense techniques.”

  The murmuring grew louder and more agitated.

  “It is lies!” Maurice exploded, slapping both palms against the table. “Michael is lying to save the pathetic creature he is enamored of, and to save his own reputation because he know it is his failings that have brought us to this juncture.” Maurice was breathing heavily as he finished the speech but the drama did not appear to have the effect he expected, because he looked around uncertainly and then dropped back to his seat.

  “Why, then, let us discover what the Wudu-faesten think,” Michael said. “Is it Teresa who lies — or Michael? Is it the elder who lies — or Michael?”

  The room grew quiet.

  “What say you?” Michael asked, gazing at the faces surrounding him. “Do you stand with me? Or with them?”

  Danielle stepped forward, touching him lightly on the shoulder. “I stand with Michael,” she said. Slowly, others joined — Rufus and Emma, then Colleen and others who ranged themselves with him.

  “The Wudu-faesten have spoken,” Michael said. “And the elders and Teresa have been found guilty as accused.” Here Michael paused to catch his breath — and his thoughts and his wits. “I take it upon myself to pronounce the dōm. They wronged me, yes, but no more than they wronged Tomas and Lana, whose trueborn child was killed in the last attack.” He paused. “Even so. Even so. This is the Way.” This had never been the Way before, but there was always room for a new Way.

  “For the elders — all of you — I pronounce this judgment: that you will be exiled from the land of the Wudu-faesten, forbidden to trespass against us under pain of death.”

  Michael could tell from the nods of approval that he had said the right thing. The dōm could have been death, but he was not so merciful.

  “You cannot force us to leave!” Maurice sputtered.

  “It would be becoming of a pastor to show more mercy on his elders,” Cara said through gritted teeth.

  “When you twisted the truth and approved the lies of this traitor and pronounced the dōm upon the woman I love, you wrung the last drop of mercy from my veins,” Michael said.

  He thought it sounded rather well. Jelena would have chided him for over-drama.

  “The dōm is just,” Rufus said. “The council led us down a path of wickedness and destruction and yet we suffer them to live.”

  Rufus was also overdoing it a little, but Michael appreciated the effort.

  “The dōm is just,” Emma said.

  Then Michael turned his gaze on Teresa, who lifted her chin, the hatred flashing from her eyes. “I am not afraid of exile,” she said. “Nor even death.”

  Michael smiled but the smile held neither warmth nor pity. “But none of those will be your dōm. Your dōm is to go and live among the Sithans you so much admire.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  In the spring, the wolves brought litters into the world and Jelena delighted in meeting the newcomers and training them in the ways of the tribes. The spring also brought Matilda’s trueborn daughter into the world, William’s eyes shining bright with pleasure. “We’re naming her Jelena,” he said solemnly. “Because if she could grow to take after you, we would be well pleased indeed.”

  She smiled and told him she was flattered and caught her breath once again at the deep and solid faith and trust her people had in her.

  The swords had long since been forged. She and the other fighters practiced hours a day, the kata she had taken so long to remember, the practice drills, the free fighting that often closely resembled real fights even down to flesh laid open.

  She sometimes rode Horse from one end of the territory to the other, to see the fields ready for planting, the glittering nets of the fishers shining beneath the midday sun, the ranks of warriors practicing under the command of her second, the clack of shuttle and loom when the weavers set up outside on a good day, the ringing hammer blows from the smithy — Derek was training up several apprentices and rarely did smith work himself anymore, only when Jelena specifically asked him to. He held up high hopes that Tasha would become a master swordmaker.

  She showed the sewers how to crush beetles for their lacquer and to collect the reeds that grew on the riverbank to make the lightweight lacquer armor that could stop a sword thrust. She turned Greco to making the he
lmets and face shields, he fashioning the stuff of nightmares, fiery red and black wolf faces for them, creating the pieces with meticulous care, painting and shellacking the features into a frightening semblance of reality.

  When the Jackals came late in spring, Jelena signaled her warriors. They leapt on their horses, their helmets and face shields frozen in ferocious smiles; and they ran the Jackals down.

  They did not range beyond their borders, but they would not allow any encroachment upon their territory. Soon the neighboring tribes whispered among themselves that it was best to avoid the place of the wolves. Their warrior chief was a woman, it was said, and by all that was good, everyone knew what that meant.

  • • •

  Derek drew Jelena away from training one hot summer morning, asking for some time alone with her. She agreed, but not happily, because she was afraid that he was going to press her to partner with him.

  She found a spot away from prying eyes and sat down, patting the ground next to her for him to sit, too, but he merely shook his head at her and paced, trying to gather his thoughts. When finally he spoke, his back was still to her, which she felt did not bode well for the conversation.

  “You know I haven’t been entirely happy here,” Derek said. “I’m not complaining, I’m more contented here than I ever was in that other place. But I’m an explorer.”

  “Oh,” said Jelena. This was not at all what she’d been expecting to hear.

  “I’m not the man to stay settled here,” he went on. “And now I have the choice to make my life the way I will.”

  “You’re leaving us,” Jelena guessed.

  “Ay.”

  “I would not stop you. But it is dangerous alone.”

  “I’ll not be alone,” Derek said and here Jelena grew still because he couldn’t possibly intend or expect her to come with him.

  “Sarah has consented — ”

  “Sarah,” Jelena gasped.

  Here Derek finally swung around, a dark scowl on his face, his hands clutched into fists.

  “Ay, Sarah,” he grated out.

  “Of course. And Cat?”

  “Coming with us,” Derek said. “They both want to see what the world has to offer.”

  “And there are others?”

  “Ay.”

  “Then take what you need. And may you always have a comfortable place to sleep at night.”

  Derek’s face broke into a grin. “Since when have we cared about comfortable sleep?” he demanded.

  “I hate to see you go,” Jelena said. “But you are your own man and you are free to do as you wish. I could not have made this journey without you.”

  “Ay,” said Derek. He knew his worth.

  “You will always have a home here.”

  Derek nodded, and his eyes misted. Jelena leapt to her feet and ran into his arms where he held her tightly.

  “I would have wanted it to be you,” he said gruffly. “But you gave your heart away before I had a chance to win it.”

  Jelena wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “I wish it could have been you,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Far simpler. Easier on everyone.”

  “Sarah is a good woman,” he said. “I’ll do right by her. But perhaps you could pine for me just a little.”

  Jelena grinned. “Just a little. Longing for you will keep me up five, ten minutes every night.”

  “See that it does,” Derek said with mock solemnity, then put Jelena away from him and she knew that was the last they’d ever speak of what might have been.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  One early fall day, the border guards escorted a small group of Wudu-faesten to the main hall. Jelena wore her usual linen tunic embroidered with white wolves. She wore no symbol of power or authority but one could not enter her presence and not know that she was a force to be reckoned with. She turned when the door was flung open and the border guard bawled, “Entourage from the Wudu-faesten seek an audience with Jelena of the Wolves.”

  Jelena laughed in the back of her throat. “Thank you, Geoff. You know that formality isn’t necessary.”

  She moved forward and stopped with a sudden shock when she saw the emissary. She lifted her chin and continued forward, bowing in welcome. She gestured for the group to sit, then joined them at table. Within a few minutes, tribe members brought mugs of warm tea and plates of thick bread with butter.

  “You’re welcome here, Lana, Tomas. Michael,” she said. Here she hesitated. He looked exhausted and worn, but his sapphire eyes still glowed and he held himself proud and erect.

  “I didn’t realize how extensive your holdings are,” Michael said, sipping the warm drink and letting it trickle down his throat. “Nor how large your tribe is.”

  “We are fewer than two hundred now,” Jelena said. “Earlier in the year, Derek took several dozen families to establish a connected tribe to the west. He likes the mountains, you know. I have always been a plainswoman.”

  “No,” Michael said, smiling gently. “For a long time you were protected by the trees.”

  She felt something of a shock in her heart. “Yes. Then let me say that I have always felt an affinity for the plains. Even when I was protected by the trees. Tell me, Michael, why have you traveled here?”

  “Bertha is dying.”

  Jelena took her breath in sharply. “Bertha? That can’t be.” It seemed impossible that Bertha could ever die.

  “The Sithan continue their raids,” Michael explained. “Last month, Emma was killed and two of the kitchen helpers.”

  “They murdered Colleen in the spring,” Lana said flatly.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Jelena said. “We have been through much the same and I know what it means to lose one of my own.”

  “Bertha was mortally wounded protecting one of the trueborn during the last raid,” Michael said. “We know that they want the riches of our mines. The elders talked about giving them the mines, about our moving and resettling elsewhere. But how could we leave the saved behind?”

  “So we gave the elders leave to go,” Tomas said.

  Jelena’s eyes widened in surprise. “But — that — well, by all that’s good, I wasn’t expecting to hear that today.”

  “Bertha asks that you come to her one last time,” Michael said. “She is the eldest of our tribe and we want to honor her last wishes.”

  “Of course I’ll come,” Jelena said. “I must just take care of a few duties here and then we can set out.”

  “Perhaps we could rest a bit?” Michael smiled. “It was a long journey.”

  Jelena’s smile broadened. “Didn’t you used to say to me, Michael, that there will be time enough for rest once you’re dead?”

  • • •

  Bertha was ashen, her breath coming in faint sighing moans. Jelena threw off her riding cloak and ran to Bertha’s pallet. She knelt next to the woman and took her hand. Bertha seemed somehow shrunken, thin and fragile, although not long ago, she would have been her robust and hearty self.

  Jelena pressed Bertha’s hand against her cheek, knowing her tears flowed freely.

  “Bertha, I’m back. I’m here.”

  Bertha’s eyes fluttered open. “Took your time, did you?” she whispered, the breath catching in her throat.

  Jelena smiled through her tears. “I had chores to do. I can’t drop everything just to be at an old lady’s beck and call.”

  Bertha had the ghost of a smile on her face. “I’m going to miss you, child. None of this turned out exactly as planned.”

  “None of what?”

  “This,” Bertha said, her hand moving feebly on the blanket, but Jelena supposed she meant for the gesture to encompass the world of the Wudu-faesten.

  “I’ve always said, we can’t know
the will of the makers,” Jelena shrugged.

  Bertha smiled broadly this time, a real, honest smile. “I don’t mean to contradict you, child. But indeed we can know the will of the makers. And this was not it. I should know,” she said and opened her eyes to look directly at Jelena. “I was one of them.”

  “By all that’s good — ” Jelena whispered. She rocked back on her heels, clutching Bertha’s hands between hers.

  “But you,” Bertha chuckled. “Weren’t you the surprise? Who knew that we would finally get our warrior — only by that time she’d be head of her own tribe?”

  “Who knew?” Jelena repeated, smiling. “Yes, I knew that must be my calling. But when I turned my back on my birthright, I realized that — ”

  “That you were taking not just one but two tribes into uncharted territory, directions no one planned or thought up.” Bertha closed her eyes again, her breath coming in labored measures. She stayed quiet for a long time and then began again. “It was never my intention to destroy the Wudu-faesten,” she said. “Just to send them in a different direction. Where they would treasure the discovering as well as the remembering. Where they would honor the newlyborn and the trueborn in equal measure, where they would accept the awakened and the unawakened alike. And make no distinction between them.”

  “I see,” Jelena said.

  “Do you? I wonder. Because the Wudu-faesten cannot survive much longer. And neither can you and yours.”

  Jelena bristled. “We’re doing fine. Our crops are growing, we had our first trueborn child this spring — ”

  Bertha waved a hand. “Your tribe … is out of balance. The Wudu-faesten are also out of balance. To create balance you must have harmony. The hard and the soft, the scholar and the warrior.”

  “The way of no way,” Jelena said.

  “You must not abandon your people for your children,” Bertha said, “or neither tribe will survive.”

  Jelena glanced at Michael, who stood behind her. Bertha chuckled, the laugh turning into a moan of pain.