First Published in 2006 by willow bank Publishers
This Edition Published 2012
This Edition is published as a first edition, second revision
ISBN 9781 468114560
Copyright© Brian P. Pemberton
10987654321
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The Wolf And The Sorceress
Brian P. Pemberton
Volume 1
For my late Mother who was my greatest critic My love and thanks.
My thanks also to my friend Peter Chancellor for the cover design.
The Wolf And The Sorceress
Chapter 1
Nemeila
Somewhere to the west of the forester’s cottage, a lone wolf howled. Food had become scarce so it had parted company with its pack in the hope of finding a kill. He was the alpha male of his pack and larger than all the grey wolves that claimed the forest and fields as theirs. No one dared stand against him his every look was law. Having sniffed his way into a small bosky clearing in the forest, the scent of his next meal drifted across his flaring nostrils. The smell activated his saliva glands, and by the time his keen eyes had sought out the source of the appetising odour, his muzzle was dripping. His first thought was that the small oddly shaped metal box might be some new kind of cunning trap, but hunger soon overcame his doubts and he cautiously crept towards the open container.
The wolf licked the strings of drool from his muzzle and then scanned the clearing to ensure there was nothing larger or better armed to steal the food from under his nose.
The bundle of silk wrappings shifted under his steady gaze. It promised a larger feast than his recent meagre meals, and his jaws yawned in readiness for the kill. As he pushed his muzzle into the folds of cloth and was about to close drool-wet teeth round a fleshy arm, a dazzling light scorched his eyes. Then as it faded and he regained his sight, instead of biting into the baby’s arm the wolf clamped its jaws around the squirming parcel of cloth and lifted the package free of its makeshift home. As he moved away from the now empty shell, its sensors, detecting the absence of life, ignited the self-destruct mechanism and melted the shuttle into a ball of metal no bigger than a child’s marble.
The stones in the amulet placed upon the baby’s arm by its mother, Ilanthia, had already begun their task: To protect the child in their care. They flickered with an esoteric fire, burning their way into the wolf’s mind, creating an unbreakable bond between the animal and the child held in its deadly teeth. Much as he wanted to carry it off into the dense woods, to share it with his starving pack, a compulsion stronger than hunger urged him towards the cottage at the edge of the forest.
The forester tossed the last of the logs onto the dying embers in the hearth and squatting before the fire massaged his cold fingers as it crackled back into life. Showers of glowing sparks flew up the chimney. He stood and shrugged himself into his worn leather jerkin and, shivering in the sudden blast of icy air as he opened the door, went out into the early morning darkness. “I’ll not be long,” he called over his shoulder to his wife. “Heat some broth for when I return, I’ll need it.” As he was about to leave, he saw his wife refolding the small garments she’d made for the child they’d never had.
Settling his axe comfortably on his shoulder, he paused before setting off down the moonlit path. The baying of the wolf was close by and Jakob wondered why the lone predator would venture so near to its mortal enemy.
The moon was blanketed by ponderous clouds, which left the forest paths in deep and forbidding shadow. Holding the lantern aloft, Jakob took the axe from his shoulder and gripped it tightly, no longer a woodcutting tool, but a defensive weapon. He crept apprehensively along one of the wider pathways, peering from side to side into the trees, expecting a snarling bundle of fury to hurtle out at any moment. Thankfully he did not have to penetrate too far into the gloomy wood before he came across a fallen tree, dry enough to burn. He raised the axe above his head and readying himself for the first cut, was startled by a sudden movement to his left. He froze, breathing heavily and sweating with fear despite the chill air. A shadow denser than those between the trees shifted stealthily, moving on silent feet towards him. The lantern guttered in a fitful breeze and the prancing flame sought out two gleaming amber eyes peering from the undergrowth. The wolf’s eyes met Jakob’s own, and in that instance he saw the wolf glaring up at him. In its mouth it carried a wriggling parcel of cloth, which it gently placed on the ground several feet from where Jakob stood.
“Be off,” Jakob yelled. His voice quivered in fright as he lunged at the wolf, feigning bravery he did not feel this early in the day.
Instead of bolting back into the trees, out of reach of the axe, the wolf stood his ground and kept a wary eye on the upheld weapon and the man holding it. Jakob had killed many wolves in his time, but always with a bow and arrow from a distance or by trap. He had heard of travellers being beset by wolves and, as a pack, they could be a formidable foe. But a lone animal did not attack man unless it was starving or its offspring were threatened. This wolf was much larger than those he had previously encountered. Its coat of shaggy grey fur, dappled with black, gleamed with glossy good health over a taut and well-developed body. It was a young beast, and looked well nourished, and would not be an easy kill for the woodsman in a hand to paw fight.
Jakob had two choices: he could stand his ground and attempt to maim or kill the wolf with his axe, or he could run. If he chose flight, the wolf would bring him down before he had gone fifty yards. For several heartbeats it was a standoff. In the stillness of the dark leafy area, neither man nor beast moved. Transfixed, Jakob gripped his axe ready for the attack. Beads of panic-induced sweat popped out on his brow and sweat trickled down his sides from his armpits. But instead of hurtling towards him, the wolf gave one final glare in his direction, turned and disappeared into the dense undergrowth.
The cry that broke the spell emanated from where the wolf had stood. Holding his lantern high to banish the shadows, Jakob inched cautiously forward toward the squirming bundle. Screwing up his face as the baby’s displeasure assaulted his ears he knelt down to investigate further. The wolf’s saliva coated his fingers as he unfolded the silk shawl from around the squawking child.
All thoughts of the firewood he’d come to collect were forgotten. He gathered up the baby and cradling it tenderly inside his warm coat, made his way home. Bursting through the door, scaring his wife half to death as it bounced with a crash against the wall, he called to her.
“Woman, look what I have found in the woods,” he held the now silent child out to her.
Taliena Hunter could hardly believe her eyes. Peering up at her out of a swathe of material was a little face. “Oh my goodne
ss, it’s a child,” she murmured, wonderingly, “what a beautiful baby. Who on earth would abandon such a little thing in the forest?”
“I don’t think it was abandoned,” said Jakob. “An enormous wolf had carried it off and was either taking it back to share with his pack, or was about to enjoy a lone supper right there and then. It was lucky I searched for wood where I did and managed to scare him off. We will have to find the child’s home, the parents must be frantic.”
“First things first, husband,” said Taliena, as the baby sucked greedily on her finger. “See, the little mite is starving; fetch me a jug of fresh goat’s milk.”
Once the baby’s appetite was satisfied, and she was wrapped in fresh linens, Taliena laid the infant in the middle of their bed.
“As soon as it’s light, I will walk to town and ask if a baby is missing. Did you see the bracelet on her arm? Just one of those stones must be worth a king’s ransom she obviously comes from a well-to-do family. She’s not from our village.”
“What if no-one claims her, Jakob?” Taliena asked. “Do you think we could raise her as our own?”
“It certainly seems like a miracle, that after all these childless years, we find one on our doorstep.” Jakob leaned forward to kiss his wife’s eager face, fussing her long copper curls. “But before you start making plans; let’s see what happens when I make enquiries about her.”
The difference in his wife was remarkable. She was approaching her thirty-first year, and still bore the slim figure she had when they’d married. They’d been married for ten summers but no children had come along to make their lives complete. For him it was bearable, and at thirty-five he felt as though he was getting a bit old, but would have liked a son to carry on the Hunter line. He was aware that his wife yearned for motherhood. Every time a neighbour showed off their newly born child, Taliena would smile and coo over it and declare it the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen. But that night he would hear her trying to muffle her tears so as not to wake him, and in the morning her pillow would be damp, her eyes red and swollen with despair.
Their cottage was of simple design; log and stone build with a thatched roof. The inside consisted of a main living room where they ate and rested, and where the food was cooked over the fire in the grate. At the rear a bedroom and scullery cum washroom. It was situated at the edge of the village, and it was there that Jakob commenced his search for the foundling’s parents. There was no panic amongst the people he met, nothing to suggest a baby being stolen, so he never actually asked if a child had gone missing, just hinted that there was unrest in the forest last evening. He knew before he’d set out that none of his neighbours could afford the jewels adorning the baby’s arm. The nearest town was five leagues away, but it was a journey he had to make. He enquired discreetly whether any wolf attacks had been reported, or if the alarm had been raised for a missing child, possibly the offspring of a nobleman or a rich merchant. Wherever he went, in the shops, taverns, the street markets and even at the castle gates, the answer was always the same: no lost or stolen babies.
The whole community always celebrated the birth of a child to a noble family, as on these happy occasions, largesse was handed to their subjects. But he found there had been no such rejoicing for over a year. After four days of exhaustive questioning, Jakob decided to return home arriving back at his cottage with mixed feelings.
Before he had even stepped across the sill, Taliena was at his side. She was afraid to meet his eyes in case she read an unwanted answer there. “Oh husband, look how the child has taken to me,” she said, holding the baby up to her shoulder. “If she is to be ours, we will have to name her. I thought Nemeila sounds nice. What do you think?”
“Mmmm, yes, I like it. For the moment we can keep her, but if someone comes to claim her, you will have to give her up.”
She nodded, knowing she had no choice but to agree. Her heart thrummed with joy; she had a child of her own to raise after all these barren years. She would have to take each new day as it arrived, hoping that it would not be the day to bring her new daughter’s real parents knocking at her door.
Jakob wrapped his strong arms around his wife, almost crushing the cooing baby between them. He felt that at last their happiness was complete as her little feet kicked against his chest.
“It would seem we should be grateful to that wolf,” Jakob smiled, breathing in the scent of his wife’s freshly washed hair. “I know it’s irrational, but it’s almost as though it was waiting for me to go and chop that log.”
To Taliena and Jakob’s abiding relief and delight, no one claimed the foundling. Living at the edge of the village, Taliena rarely went into the village itself so that when asked about the baby she lied and said it had been born whilst visiting friends in a neighbouring village, and she had kept quiet about the pregnancy in fear of losing the child.
From the time that Nemeila was able to crawl, she found that she would wish for one of her toys or dolls and it would magically float over to her. She used to laugh and shout with joy at sending the dish her mother was using whilst cooking across the work surface so that when her mother reached out for it, it was no longer where she thought is was. At first Taliena didn’t understand how it had happened, but then, from the corner of her eye she saw the bowl containing the pastry mix she had just made, slowly moving away from her. Horror stricken she turned to look at her daughter, who giggled and threw her hands up in the air, “Fooled you, Mamma,” she said happily.
Taliena was going to scold her, but then saw how happy the girl was, so she bent down, picked her up and gave her a cuddle. To Nemeila, pointing towards an object and wishing for it to come to her, was no different to asking for something or going to fetch it. She thought everyone could do such things. Not far from their cottage was an orchard consisting of no more than a dozen trees. Nemeila wandered amongst the trees looking at the juicy red apples, she sat down under a branch laden with the delicious fruit and held her left arm above her head, then cupping her hand, wished for the biggest and juiciest looking apple to fall into her hand. At the height of her thoughts she heard her mother call.
“Nemeila, where are you?”
As her mother appeared between the trees a dozen or more apples fell, bouncing on the ground and off her head. She held her hands up for protection, but one of the apples hit her nose and she screamed out in pain. Looking at the offending piece of fruit, she moved her arm as if striking it and the apple flew away from her, smashing to pulp against the trunk of a nearby tree.
For a moment Taliena stood motionless, aware now of what her daughter was able to do. “What were you doing, Nemeila?” she asked.
“I wanted an apple,” she said, guiltily, “but you made me jump when you called out. I lost control and too many fell off the tree.”
This wasn’t the first time that Taliena had seen her daughter perform tricks. There was another pastime enjoyed by her little girl that brought fear to her heart. She would watch her sit cross-legged on the grass outside the cottage door, gather a few small pebbles in her hand, and, completely absorbed in her own world, would gleefully watch them float and spiral in the air, dipping and twirling in front of her face. For the first time in her life, Taliena was afraid of the consequences of her actions.
“Nemeila,” her mother scolded gently, “you must not do that. If anyone sees you, you’ll be accused of witchcraft. If the Sheriff gets to hear of it, you might be thrown into prison. And worse, they burn witches at the stake in some parts of this land.” She saw the shocked expression on her daughter’s face and was sorry if she’d frightened her, but she had to make her understand that these magic tricks of hers must remain a closely guarded secret within the family.
Nemeila now realised that she was different from the other children in the village, and heeded her mother’s words. But making stones dance was not the only ability she possessed. If she concentrated hard enough, shutting out her mother’s singing as she hung out the washing in the garden, she could se
nd crockery from the dresser to the table and set the cutlery for their meal without moving from where she sat. Having been told that the pebble trick might get her burned at the stake, not that she really believed it, she was very careful to practice her skills with the flying plates when she was alone and in no danger of being discovered by her anxious mother. By and large, most of the things Nemeila did caused no harm, but occasionally they did backfire and she would get soaked as the water from the well flew upward and, missing the bucket she was holding, fell over her. To save face, Nemeila told her mother she had tripped and the water had splashed from the bucket and made her wet. “That’ll teach you to be more careful,” Taliena said, smiling, knowing full well what had really happened. But Taliena was becoming more and more concerned about these ‘secret’ tricks and thought she would tell her husband. “Jacob,” she said, one evening when Nemeila had gone to bed, “I am worried about our daughter. When she was really small, crawling on the floor, playing, I would often find a dish I was using moved from the place where I knew I had put it. Then I saw Nemi moving her hands through the air and it was her moving the dish. She giggled when I caught her out and said, ‘Fooled you, Mama’. I was going to scold her but she looked so happy, I didn’t have the heart.” Jacob frowned and pulled a face, “She is only a child, and maybe she will grow out of it as she gets older.”
“I don’t think so,” Taliena said, drying her hands on a piece of cloth. Then as she placed the dishes into a cupboard she turned to face her husband. “She can also magic water from the well; I have seen her do it. She sits sometimes and makes small pebbles fly round in circles, creating patterns in the air. Two days ago she was in the orchard, I went to find her and when I called to her the apple she was trying to magic from the tree fell along with dozens more. The one that hit her on the nose was smashed against a tree by the wave of her arm. I’m frightened, Jacob. What would happen if we made her unhappy, would she just wave us aside?” “She is just a girl, “Jacob said, placing an arm round Taliena’s shoulders. “She knows what is right from wrong. You have taught her these things and I know, in my heart she would never harm either of us. She is a special girl and has been from the day I found her guarded by a wolf. She has a purpose here and we will help guide her in her growing up. Your influence will make her into a kind and loving woman who one day will, I am sure, give us grandchildren to play games with and look after.” Taliena wiped the tear from her eye and stretched up to kiss her husband, and tried to forget about the magical side to her daughter’s nature. Jakob and Taliena had managed to keep their daughter’s abilities secret for nine years, but an incident in the next village nearly exposed Nemeila. Jakob arrived home in a hurry, sought out his pickaxe and leather gloves and told Taliena and Nemeila that he and some of the other men were going to the next village to help try save a young boy trapped in a cave-in. Jakob led the twenty men and joined the villagers surrounding the derrick that had been mounted over the hole in the ground. “What happened?” Jakob asked.
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