The Winds of Crowns and Wolves

by K. E. Walter

  Slowly, he backed away from the lion and fought against his will to keep his breath at the decreased pace he now found it maintaining. With the eggs caressed strongly against his chest, Neach broke into a trot once he hit the sunlight that illuminated the entrance to the cave.

  He placed the eggs on the wet grass as the last drops of rain fell from the sky. Fenris applauded as Neach emerged from within the darkness.

  “Good work, boy. You’ve claimed the eggs. But this is not your only task; tomorrow when you wake, there will be more to learn. For now, make your way to the hut. This rain will pester us ‘til the ‘morrow and it’s best if you get your rest,” Fenris concluded.

  With a faint smile upon his face, Neach hurried back to the encampment hoping to gain further insight and a richer understanding of the world he now found himself fully encompassed by.

  X

  His body ached.

  For days now, he had been subject to rigorous physical training at the hands of Fenris. Unsure of how long he had been on this island, Neach’s days were beginning to mold into one. All hours of the day were spent engrossed in the ancient text, and the hours he wasn’t reading were delineated to physical training.

  Nothing had been said of the purpose of his training, but Neach got the impression that it was of imminent importance. Frequently throughout the day, Neach would witness Fenris in what appeared to be a fit of anxiety. Pacing around the wooded area around outside the encampment or sitting down by the water, he always appeared uneasy. It was as if there was a volatile storm on the horizon, even on the sunniest of days.

  Yet, he said nothing. The only focus in his mind was understanding the various teachings of the Toriik Riamendi and pleasing Fenris’ desires. After just a few days, he was starting to grasp a basic understanding of the book before him.

  He brought it everywhere he travelled. If he went to collect fruit and water, he brought the book with him and read whilst walking. Every second of his time was spent immersed in the archaic language of the tome. So many questions filled his mind as he sifted through the plethora of stories held within the book.

  Even when he was involved in his physical training with Fenris, he couldn’t help but allow his mind to stray toward the thought of the contents of the Toriik Riamendi.

  Early in the morning, near ten days after Neach’s arrival, Fenris called upon him for his daily conditioning work. Before they got into the intense physical aspect of the conditioning, Fenris required Neach to hit five targets from thirty yards with his bow.

  As Neach walked into the shooting area, his mind and body were exponentially more weary than they had been in days prior. The night before had not been kind to Neach, a nightmare had plagued his thoughts and prevented even the slightest amount of sleep. He found himself running through an open field, away from what, he was unsure, but he was also unsure of where he was headed. At the end of the nightmare he was awoken, as he propelled off the edge of a cliff to his demise. This nightmare had squandered all chances of sleep, but now he wished to ask Fenris about it.

  “Fenris, I had a nightmare last night, I was wondering if you could explain what it meant to me,” Neach queried.

  “Ah, so they’ve started,” Fenris replied, “tell me what it is you see.”

  In detail, Neach recounted the basic foundation of the nightmare which he remembered. His eyes grew wide with each piece of information, highlighting the bags beneath his eyelids.

  As he came to its conclusion, Fenris simply looked away and nodded.

  “It’s normal, son, you are going through the transition. Soon enough you will be used to it,” Fenris said.

  “But, what exactly will I be getting used to? What am I?” Neach inquired.

  With a heavy sigh, Fenris prepared to answer some of the questions he knew were bound to be swirling around inside of Neach’s head.

  “You, much like me, are a member of a lineage of elite warriors. We hail from the House Goedwig, the only known descendants of—wolves,” Fenris stated as a silence hushed over the forest.

  As he said this, a light rain began to fall on the two men as they continued toward the target area.

  They approached the clearing with an exacerbated drag in their step. Not only had Neach been hit hard by the recent training he had undergone, but Fenris was also expending large quantities of energy daily to ensure that Neach learned properly.

  Neach picked up the bow with his now callused hands and set his eyes on the target once more. With a swift draw from his quiver, he fired the arrow directly into the heart of his target. His shooting had improved tenfold since his arrival and he now shot with the precision of a sharp knife cutting a piece of meat. For him to miss the center of the target was seemed as deviant; every shot was released with the speed of a running deer trotting through the woodland.

  Once he had landed three shots deep with the flesh of the trees that stood behind the targets, Neach turned to Fenris and asked another question.

  “So, what exactly is this “House Goedwig” you speak of? I think I’ve seen the name in the Toriik Riamendi a few times,” Neach asked.

  Fenris paused for an elongated period of time before he hazarded the question with a response.

  “You and I are not like the rest of the world, son. We come from a bloodline, long ago descended from the wolves which inhabit the very forests of the Kingdom you and I call home. When the trees we see here were mere saplings, and the land had not yet assumed its final shape, a wolf gave birth to a son in the dead of winter. As legend tells us, this son was not a wolf, but it bore the same features as a human being. If you believe the tales, which I implore you do, this man then grew up in the company of wolves until he found his way to the rest of society,” Fenris finished with a gasp of air. His age had clearly taken its toll upon his lungs more so than any other part of his body.

  “What became of this man?” inquired Neach.

  “He lived out his life in the city we now know as Leirwold. He found a wife and they bore three beautiful children. He made it known of his life, and the way in which he came into existence. From that point on, our legion has upheld the morals and characteristics of the first members of our house. Our duty is to serve, protect, and be invisible. The deeds which we carry out are the ones which cannot be carried out by the normal human. We lurk in the shadows and commit things that sometimes make us question our beliefs, but nevertheless, we do it for the good of our house, our destiny born in blood.”

  With the explanation, Neach fell silent. His response was something of disbelief. Not a single sound was uttered as he stood there, bow in hand, listening to the tale be told by Fenris. So many unbelievable things had happened since that fateful day when he left Spleuchan Sonse. But for him, this would be one of the most radical. He had finally learned of his true existence, how he came to be, but the questions could not stop there.

  “Come along, boy, there is still much work to be done. That’s all the questions I’ll answer for today, if you seek more truths, you must find them within yourself” Fenris stated.

  And with that, the two men headed off toward the unknown, yet again. Neach followed, this time at Fenris’ side. There was no doubt that in the weeks which had preceded today, Neach had worked hard to gain the respect of the weary old man. Although not very receptive at first, Fenris appeared to be taking a liking to Neach and his attitude. He was clearly dedicated to the cause, and the blind faith he exerted only proved that he was deserving of his place in the House.

  As they travelled across the island, Neach saw things we had hadn’t seen previously in the secluded area he and Fenris lived. Tall mountain peaks rose up from the ground in correlation with the large trees that made up the island. As they ascended higher, the trees from the ground disappeared in favor of smaller shrubbery. The coloration of the shrubs was unlike anything Neach had ever seen. Bright pinks and oranges filled the green bushes with vibrant flowers that signaled the entrance of spring.

  The rain had now passed an
d the sweet smell of the wet forest filled the inside of Neach’s nose. The birds had come out to sing their songs of warmth and their sounds echoed through the air, surrounding the two with a chorus of harmonic ecstasy. Neach smiled to himself as he continued through the land. He couldn’t help but be content with where he now found himself.

  For the first time in his life, he was beginning to feel as if he actually belonged somewhere. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that his place of comfort would be on an island, accompanied by a strange old man. But the man did not seem strange any longer; his weary disposition and wrinkled face provided a blanket of tranquility for Neach to wrap himself within.

  They continued walking for another ten minutes or so before they reached another separate clearing. In this clearing sat a pole with a chain attached to its base. The chain was stretched until it reached outside and into the long grass. From his vantage point, Neach was unable to see what lie on the end of the chain, but he hoped it wasn’t anything dangerous. The progression of the training seemed to be moving toward the more harrowing end, but Neach had hope that he would find the positives regardless.

  Fenris held his hand to his mouth and whistled at an earsplitting tone. Neach cringed as he stood beside him, but recovered just as quickly. From out of the tall grass emerged a wolf, light brown in color. Its fur was scraggly and it appeared to be as old as the trees which hung over the open area. It walked slowly toward the clearing, as if defeated both by old age and the chain around its neck. Its eyes drooped low, and its sorrow could be felt deep within Neach’s soul.

  It circled around the open grass a few times before it sat quietly next to the pole. It seemed resigned to its fate; no fight could be seen left within its old bones. Fenris stared into the distance for a few minutes before turning toward Neach.

  “Your task today is simple: communicate with this here wolf. He’s old and he’s sick. There’s not much hope or time left for him, but allow him to leave this Earth in peace. As is the way of our people, he can leave in peace with our blessing. It is up to you to figure out this blessing before the sun sets,” Fenris said. A single tear appeared to trickle down his right eye as he again turned away from Neach.

  He turned and began walking toward the encampment, directly after his instructions had been administered to Neach. For the past few days, Neach had been carrying the Toriik Riamendi in his back satchel, as he read it in his spare time. Now, he hoped that the ancient text could assist him in this last rites ritual that he was meant to perform on the wolf.

  With less caution than should have been used, Neach headed in the direction of the old, beautiful, creature. It whimpered on the ground as Neach came closer to it. He sat down next to the weathered creature of the wood and laid his hand upon its back. As he stroked downward, he watched as the wolf’s eyes focused on the ground. Sullen and somber, the wolf let out an audible cry into the depths of the forest surrounding them.

  In one fell swoop, Neach withdrew the book from his back and began to scour the pages for any information regarding the burial rites of wolves. His comprehension skills had gotten better, but he was still unaware of exactly what he was reading at times.

  Hundreds of pages were sifted through containing pictures of battles, plants, and various people who he assumed held a position of significance within the House. He seemed to lose himself within the beautifully illustrated borders and pictures within the text. On the outside of the tome there lay a picture of a wolf print, encased in silver. Its every detail was immaculately outlined as to do the paw justice.

  With a closing of his eyes, he felt the outside of the pages and of the binding. What happened next could only be described as a supernatural occurrence. His finger moved to a specific portion of the book and opened. There in front of him laid a scene of a dying wolf with a man standing over it.

  Underneath the picture there was an inscription in quotations: “Yuf dirry ger gillet nurr dirry”. He wondered what these words meant. He still couldn’t grasp the significance of some of the phrases within the book. As he looked up, he saw birds circling atop the trees. The piece of the forest he found himself in was one of the only on the island where the canopy was thin enough to allow a plethora of sunlight in.

  And so he invited the wolf to come towards him, into the sunlight. The wolf obeyed and laid its head down on Neach’s lap as he recited the words he saw on the page in front of him.

  “Yuf dirry ger gillet nurr dirry,” Neach said softly into the left ear of the wolf.

  But nothing happened. He examined the picture to see what it was that the man was doing exactly.

  And then he saw it.

  In the man’s hand there sat a thick blade. He was holding it against the wolf’s neck as he espoused the words from his mouth.

  It was then that Neach understood what he was meant to do.

  Earlier in the week Fenris had given Neach a gift, to represent his procession through the training process. This gift was a beautifully adorned knife with a blade as sharp as anything Neach had ever used before. Its handle was encrusted with rubies and gold leaf, and its blade had a depiction of a nature scene carved into its metal.

  The beauty of the gift was now put in contrast with its ultimate purpose. For today, the knife would be used to put this majestic old beast down.

  He reached into the depths of his satchel and retrieved the intricately designed weapon. It was given to him with a thick leather sheath, and Neach had not withdrawn it until this very moment. He ran the blade along his finger and a drip of blood followed closely behind.

  With a deep breath, he again began to stroke the back of the large brown wolf as its head lay on his lap. Its agony was supremely evident by the cloudy cataracts which had begun to develop within its colorful eyes. Their purity had been comprised, but such is the way of life. For no one can survive without losing their innocence, no color can exist without someday being tainted by a different hue.

  Now that he knew what needed to be done, Neach summoned up the strength to perform the maneuver. He grasped the knife in his right hand and pressed it against the wolf’s neck as it whimpered softly.

  “Yuff dirry ger gillet nurr dirry,” he whispered into the wolf’s ear as he increased the pressure on the blade.

  The dark crimson of the blood began to spill out onto the forest floor as Neach sat repeating this phrase over and over again. With a few small cries, the wolf exhaled its last breath and slumped into eternal slumber in Neach’s arms.

  Tears began to well up in the corners of Neach’s eyes as he held this wolf in his arms. For what he had learned earlier, this too was a member of his people. These very wolves were from the same lineage as he himself was. With the sleeve of his right arm, Neach wiped the tears away and removed the wolf from his legs.

  He carried the wolf to the depths of the tall grass and laid him down soft. For such a magnificent existence, this wolf had come to a measly demise. It didn’t feel right to Neach. For every moment this beast had seen in its years, it was ultimately destined to conclude its days helpless against the forces of life.

  The walk back to the camp was somber. Clouds had moved in and were threatening to unleash their rain down upon Neach as he trekked the trail back toward Fenris and the warmth of the fire. It was late in the afternoon, and the young man who had recently left his home village was now hardened by the harsh realities of life. The tears which had careened down his face were now dry, and his heart had frozen back to the place it was before.

  As he entered the encampment, he saw Fenris standing at the edge of the hut.

  “Let me see your blade, son,” Fenris said coolly, with little imperative.

  Without hesitation or response, Neach removed his knife from his satchel and presented it to his teacher. The two stood there in silence for a few minutes before Fenris nodded.

  “I am sure today has taken its toll on you, therefore the next few days will be spent reading. Your final task will come in a few days, but until then, reflect
on what it is you have learned so far,” he said.

  Neach silently acknowledged the sentiments and headed for the inside of the hut. Fenris looked on with a look of sympathetic approval, as he had once gone through the same feelings that Neach was experiencing. Entrance into the House was not only a blood right, but it was a matter of understanding and respect. One had to learn the importance of their role in the House, as well as, the world before they were allowed full access to its resources.