Leather boots strode past Tathar’s face before Dínendal’s bloody hands came into view. The Scout Leader was screaming and waving his arms, but Tathar couldn’t make out what was being said as darkness washed over him.
***
Location Irlendria / Enelya Tasartir:
Enelya struggled to hold on to Argus’ sleek coat as he raced through the trees heading back to their companions. She felt his exhaustion radiating through her limbs as if it were her own body being pushed past its limits, but still Argus drove himself relentlessly onwards. Following close behind was Enelya’s mother riding astride the silvery-black coated Eila. With her gray-streaked dreadlocks streaming behind her in the wind, mother looked like a shaman half her age. If not for the hard-faced Blood Guards surrounding her in a protective ring an outside observer would have never guessed she was Arien Tasartir, the Clan’s Spirit Mother.
Slightly ahead of her mother rode the serious faced Ohorn sitting atop a sable coated Wenci named Unar as his piercing blue eyes scanned the growing shadows missing nothing. Although not soulmated to one another like shamans, every Wenci and Elf that took up the mantle of the Blood Guard were bound to one another as close as packmates. They served for life protecting the Clan’s Spirit Mother.
Looking ahead once more, Enelya laid her body against Argus’ neck whispering encouragements as her thoughts drifted back to their meeting with her mother. When Enelya had first entered the wigwam where mother was meeting with the Tribe’s Council of Elders, she hadn’t needed to say a word. One look at her face and all conversation stopped around the tent. Even though she knew mother would demand to know everything, there simply wasn’t time to go over their entire plight, so Enelya did the only thing she could think to do. Standing up straight, she addressed her mother formally.
“Spirit Mother, I require your immediate presence to stop an impending disaster threatening the future of the Clan.”
Her mother’s head had snapped back at the formal address. Concern for her daughter’s wellbeing instantly formed into an impenetrable mask as she considered the words carefully. There was no question in Enelya’s mind just how bad she and Argus must have looked in her eyes. Damaged leathers without any sign of obvious injury, furs and coat encrusted with dried blood and the overall stench of death that clung to them like a second skin as they both swayed on their feet from exhaustion ready to collapse.
Enelya was sure mother was going to demand an explanation, but the slight stiffening of her body told her that mother was in the middle of a discussion with her Wenci counterpart. For a long moment, mother held Eila’s eyes from across the room as they privately argued. When the silvery-gray Wenci rose to her haunches, Enelya felt Argus’ anxiety through their link, but his eyes never left his Pack Leader’s as her long claws dug deep into the pile of skins beneath her paws. Enelya knew he was catching grief for the terse response she’d given to mother, but they’d both agreed ahead of time that this was the only way. Just when Enelya was about to give up any hope that they’d get moving quickly, her mother came to a decision. Striding across the wigwam mother began calling out orders to the Elves and Wencis around them as Eila sprang to her side. Within moments, they were underway.
Enelya’s thoughts were ripped back to the present as Argus sprang out onto the main trail. For an instant he lost control of his headlong flight as a bestial howl of rage shattered the silence around them. Scrabbling for traction Argus bounced off the nearest tree before getting his paws under him once again as the rest of the party caught up with them looking around warily. The resonant metallic sounds of tinnearlian blades leaving their sheaths rang out around them as the Blood Guards drew their long curved knives at a signal from Ohorn.
Ignoring the questioning looks Enelya urged Argus down the trail towards where the sounds had come from. As they rounded the bend in the trail, Enelya suddenly screeched in anger as she saw the bodies of Tathar and Lranel lying on the ground bleeding from their backs. To either side of them laid the unmoving forms of Anon and Nixus, their bodies’ twisted and rigid from the agony of their soulmates’ death. Enraged Enelya scanned the clearing taking in the scene before her in an instant.
Warily watching the rest of the scouts inside the perimeter of the circle were Terus and his Wenci hunters stalking back and forth, ears laid dangerously flat against their skulls, long tails swishing back and forth as they agitatedly guarded her companions at the center of the glade. A group of injured were being cared for near the edge of the forest, while the Rangers huddled together nearby watching her approach with sullen apprehension.
Although a part of her mind peripherally noted Nessa and the injured Minotaurs standing guard over Lúthien, her focus was drawn to the enraged bloody Paladin hunched protectively over the two young girls lying unconscious at his feet. Thick, broken, ironidium chain links hung from his wrists while feverish yellow glowing eyes watched her approach. Even from this distance, she could see he was ready to collapse. Sliding off Argus’ back, Enelya came to a stop next to Aliya.
“What in Meliki’s name is going on here?” Seeing the troubled looks of the scouts, she addressed Aliya directly. “What happened to Tathar and Lranel and why were my companions chained?”
Not meeting her gaze, Aliya’s grief-laden voice spoke hesitantly. “It was Dínendal. He killed them after commanding your companions to be bound.” Before she could say more, Terus stalked forward cutting her off.
Flinching at the accusation Aliya slowly met Enelya’s eyes. “The children attacked our people first. My warriors were only defending themselves-.”
A deep growl from Terus cut Aliya off in midsentence.
Meeting Aliya’s eyes she saw her friend turn away in shame from the truth of the Wenci’s accusations. Confused she focused on Terus’ fur covered face. “How did they get past your hunters in the first place?”
The dark coil of evil that Enelya had seen wrapped around Dínendal’s soul should have been warning enough. She should have pushed the point of Benda Heimild first, before seeking mother’s help with this mess. Enelya swore she wouldn’t make that mistake again. Placing a reassuring hand on Terus’ shoulder, she walked past the Wenci staring once again into the Klavikian’s eyes. “Thank you for keeping them alive Terus.”
She could hear the hesitation in Terus’ mind-speak.
A ripple went through the gathered Elves as wordlessly the Blood Guard spread out in a defensive circle apprehensively. The soft padded footfalls of Eila came to a stop next to Enelya as her mother spoke her thoughts out loud.
“Dínendal is responsible for this? Where is Gwindor Helyanwë?”
“I do not know. Dínendal was in charge when this started. I tried to stop him, but he was beyond reason. I’d hoped your presence would stop the needless deaths of our people.”
They both ignored the muffled groan from the Elf in question as Aliya dragged him roughly to his feet at a slash from the Spirit Mother’s hand. Seeing her arched eyebrow at the gag in Dínendal’s mouth Aliya lowered her head in distress.
“He wouldn’t stop spouting his hate, Spirit Mother.”
Sliding from Eila’s back Enelya’s mother came to her side with Ohorn and another Blood Guard close by eying the injured warrior warily “It’s good you came to me first. An attack on a Werewolf and his pups within our territory can only lead to trouble with the eastern wolf packs. Ohorn, we must leave no trace that they were ever here.”
“No! That is not why I asked you here Spirit Mother.” Urgently Enelya faced her mother, cutting her off as she spread her arms out wide. “I needed Dínendal stopped, not the Werewol
f. With the Great Forest’s blessing, I touched this warrior’s spirit when he saved us all from being consumed by a Tuonellian Hulk and its small army of Scourge not far from our borders. I owe him Skuldir Líf.”
Ignoring the sharp intake of breath from the Elves around her, Enelya backed up until she was standing directly in front of the feverish Klavikian. The ‘Skuldir Líf’ was a life debt. A promise to guard and protect until the debt had been paid back in full. For a shaman, this meant two lives instead of one. Not that any of that mattered now. Only she and Argus truly understood just how dire the situation had suddenly become for them all.
In the brief touch, Enelya had shared with the Paladin as the life force was fleeing from her shattered body by the Otso River. She’d seen the Klavikian’s entire life. The horror of his parent’s death, the pain and loneliness of his life, the bravery and selfless sacrifice that made up the core of his being and most importantly what was yet to come. The vision had shaken her soul, awakening something deep inside of her that she’d never felt before.
Even though the decision had been instantaneous, the reality of following through with what Enelya knew she had to do was another matter altogether. The decision would change her and Argus’ lives forever. Although Argus had agreed without hesitation, they both knew the Klavikian’s quest would change their lives, but none the less it was something they had to do.
Turning around Enelya placed her palm on the armored chest before her. Fearlessly she met the golden eyes speaking loud enough for all to hear. “This warrior is more than just a Werewolf. He is the son of Ilmarinen Ironwolf.“
A ripple of shock ran through the Elves around the clearing as they grasped the meaning of Enelya’s words. Even her mother froze at the mention of the legendary Paladin’s name that had almost singlehandedly saved their world from annihilation. That this could be his son standing before them boggled the mind.
“The prophecy will never come to pass!”
Spinning around at Dínendal’s scream, Enelya was just in time to see the fighting spear flying straight for her heart. Stepping backward she tried in vain to whip her arms up in time to deflect the heavy triangle-shaped head, but there wasn’t enough time as her back slammed into the armored chest behind her. Before she could do more than scream a large callused hand swept her aside.
Rolling back to her feet, Enelya saw Dínendal slammed to the ground by the Blood Guard as she heard the sickening thunk behind her. Turning around she could only stare in horror at the thick wooden shaft sticking out of the Klavikian’s chest. The tinnearlian head had effortlessly punched through the armored breastplate like it was made of paper.
Unbelievably, even mortally wounded the Paladin somehow managed to stay on his knees. Blood ran down the front of his armor from the jagged hole in his chest as his white-knuckled fists gripped the spear shaft. The shriek of metal filled the air as his arms suddenly flexed to full extension. Incredulously everyone watched as the Klavikian’s hands slide further up the bloody shaft. Taking a solid grip with both hands once again, he yanked with one mighty pull as the barbed spearhead ripped free from his chest.
Tossing the gore-covered spear on the ground the Klavikian’s feverish eyes held Enelya’s gaze as the large hole in his chest began to glow with a golden light. Within seconds, the wound closed of its own accord. As the light began to fade, his eyes slowly began rolling back into his head.
Springing to her feet, Enelya rushed to the Paladin’s side as he fell backward. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders she tried to hold him up, but he was simply too heavy. Crying out for help, she fell on top of him as he collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Location Irlendria / Startüm Ironwolf:
For the longest time I was only aware of pain, conscious or unconscious it followed me lashing at my very soul. Even though a part of me logically knew the torment I felt was from my body’s fight against the consumption eating me from the inside out. In my weakened condition my feverish thoughts began to take on a life of their own. Time passed in a never ending series of nightmares as memories of the past and present hounded my mind like a relentless beast.
Peace only came in short spurts, when the cold cloths bathing my burning forehead lowered the fever enough to make me semi-lucid. During those brief moments, I was aware of my surrounds … of the soft fur beneath my back, the gentle hands that worked to keep my body from overheating and the soft lips that pushed chewed food into my mouth for sustenance. I was weak, too weak to open even my eyes, but every time I felt the warmth of that touch my heart raced in my chest.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard I fought to hold onto that soothing presence it always seemed to slip away, disappearing with the first waves of pain as the sickness returned. As my back arched from the hunger spasms rocking my body, tears rolled down my face as I gasped for breath. It was always worse just after I ate.
The agony that racked my body was unlike anything I’d experienced before, which in itself was a shock. I was used to being hurt. For as long as I could remember pain had been a steadfast part of my life. A constant companion thrust upon me at birth. I was familiar with its many forms. I knew its terrible embrace, but this … this was something horribly different.
“I must be dying.”
The crystal clear thought shot through my mind as the darkness rose up inside of me again. It disappeared a moment later as waves of agony began crashing through my body. Almost as if they’d been lying in wait the nightmares followed returning in strength. In a feverish haze, I once again relived my early years on Earth as I cried out in pain.
Being trained by my Grandsire as I grew up meant that I was thrashed on a regular basis, usually to the brink of death on most days. My combat lessons usually ended with my body lying broken in a bloody heap on the floor as I waited for my injuries to heal. Again and again, the brutal beatings would repeat. Stopping only when my energy pool had been depleted to the point I could no longer heal my injuries anew.
Only then did the pummeling stop. I’m sure Grandsire and I would have had a much healthier relationship over the years if the lessons had stopped there. Not to mention, I probably wouldn’t have freaked out so bad five years earlier about my life, but at the time we both thought we were doing what was necessary to prepare me for the upcoming war against the Tuonellians. Unfortunately as with any two Alpha males, we always pushed each other too hard. Only calling it quits when I had nothing left to give.
Afterward, Grandsire would prepare something for us to eat, while I writhe on the floor in agony until I’d built up enough energy to repair my shattered body. After being hurt so many times over the years you’d think I would’ve become numb to that level of physical abuse, but it never worked out that way. No matter how many times your hands are crushed or your ribs are broken, your body never gets acclimated to that level of pain.
Although the old wolf’s methods would have been considered inhumane by Human standards, they were normal for members of the Pack. If anything, young Werewolves had a much harder time with combat training since they didn’t have the ability to heal their injuries in the blink of an eye. Usually, it took a day or two for a Werewolves’ body to recover from a beating like mine. Learning a lesson could take young Werewolves weeks or even months, while my God-given powers allowed me to learn the same lesson in a matter of days if not hours.
Through it all, the constant pain had taught me one very important truth that nothing else could have. No matter what happened to me on the battlefield, no matter how badly my body was beaten or broken, the secret to being a Paladin of Ukko or Werewolf was having the will to endure. The will to endure all the shit that life threw at you and still remain standing.
I would never give up.
I would never give in.
Simple mantras that I’d learned from the Humans during my time on Earth. Whereas an outsider would’ve expected me to have only hatred for my Grandsire from the daily beatings, I’d receiv
ed while growing up. For me, it had the exact opposite effect. I understood the lessons he’d been trying to teach me in a way few others could have ever comprehended.
To have the ability to heal any physical injury and continue fighting would sound like a miracle to most people. In truth, it was exactly just that. But like anything given by the divine, it came at a terrible price. A horrendous responsibility that would never go away, but none the less must still be endured. It was the gift to live through the agony of a thousand deaths. The curse to know firsthand the pain that must be endured, yet still be willing to fight for what was right. It took special kind of fortitude. One that Grandsire had struggled to help me build over the years. The physical and mental abuse he’d inflicted upon me while growing up was his way of giving me the strength and inner conviction needed to face the destiny that had been chosen for me since before my birth.
In my mind’s eye, I rose to my knees. Facing the hurricane of pain beating at my soul, I howled in defiance as something snapped inside of me. My thoughts tumbled again as I awoke to being dragged through the forest between two hulking Minotaurs, before being dumped to the hard packed ground half-dead.
Unmoving, I listened numbly to the sounds of battle erupt around me, when the mental screams of the twins suddenly ripped through my thoughts like a tinnearlian blade. Lifting my feverish head, I felt my own body being pummeled as the Elves attacked Frostbrand and Starfire. In that instant, a burning fury reared its terrible head up inside me like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I’d always feared of losing control of the monster that lived just beneath my skin. The savage Werewolf waiting to rear its ugly head at a moment’s notice. Throughout my entire life I’d struggled against it, holding the rage in check with an iron fist. Any momentary lapse and I could have slaughtered countless of innocents on Earth. But now, functioning on instinct alone with injuries so severe that I was knocking on death’s door, I had nothing left to fear. I did the only thing I could to save the girls.
Destiny Page 33