by Lexy Wolfe
“I am called Doom,” the gromek replied with a nod. “Thank you.” He leaned close and whispered in Tiwaz’s ear, “We will discuss your temper later.” She waved at him to go sit again with some impatience, eyes on Pack Leader expectantly.
The lead wolflen composed himself, standing with pride. “I have come on behalf of Shaman to invite you to participate in our Solstice Games. He is interested to see for himself if the awe you have inspired among the other inhabitants of Bralden is justified.”
“Do others besides your people participate?” she asked. “My life has been spent fighting for other’s entertainment. I have had enough of being others’ freakish curiosity.”
“Traditionally, the games had been only for wolflen. But this year, others in Bralden will be invited to join our contests. Perhaps we will continue to do so in the future if it proves challenging to us. But you have already proven to be a better fighter. Shaman wants to judge you by those closer to your kind as well as to us.”
Tiwaz was silent for a time with a slight frown. “I cannot answer now because I must consider your offer. I will tell you my decision tomorrow at highsun.”
Disappointed, but understanding, the leader bowed. “As you wish. Tomorrow. Highsun.”
Kerk secured the door after the trio had left, then dropped into his chair and took a long drink from his mug. He exhaled heavily while regarding Tiwaz. “You just inspire upheaval, don’t you, lass?”
Turning her back on them, she headed towards her bedroom. “I have known nothing else.”
TIWAZ GAZED OUT the dirt-hazed window from her seat at the head of her bed. She glanced over at a quiet knock at the door. “Come in,” she called, her voice without inflection. She turned her eyes back to the window as Doom entered.
“You don’t usually close the door,” he observed as he sat on the floor by her.
“I do not think of the room being a cage when the door is closed so much anymore.” She touched the cold glass. “The window helps. I closed the door because I wanted quiet to think.” She sighed, lowering her gaze when he put a comforting hand on her knee. “What should I do, Doom?”
“What do you want to do? You can make the choice for yourself. You don’t need me to think for you anymore.” She flashed an angered look at him. “It is the truth of how it has been since we escaped. Anytime you said what you wanted, I ignored you because I thought I knew better. I made you doubt yourself.”
She looked out the window again. “You did know better. You do know better. I know nothing of the world outside of a cage or off a leash. A cage with an open door is still a cage if I can’t bring myself to leave it. A leash does not need to be physical for me to be aware of how long it is.”
Doom’s expression faltered, troubled. “You think I hold your leash? Ti, I would never—” He fell silent when she put her fingers over his lips lightly.
She smiled, both sad and loving, sitting on the floor beside him. “The leash Alimar controlled us with was not one he created but the one we made. We have been bound to each other ever since I woke up in the pen with you,” she pointed out. “My first memory is of you. The only person who has my absolute trust is you. You helped me when Alimar hurt me.”
He closed his eyes, looking away. “You were hurt because of me. I owed you,” he began.
“Only in your mind,” she interrupted. “I never thought you owed me anything. Alimar used our loyalty, our leashes, to each other to control us.” She leaned against him; he put his arm around her. “We did and still do everything for each other. It has always been this way between us. I know you would never knowingly do anything that would hurt me.”
The gromek was silent as he digested the magnitude of her faith in him. He kept his words slow and measured as he asked, “Do you want to participate in the wolflen’s Solstice Games?”
“Yes. No! I don’t…I don’t know what I want,” she whispered, agonized. “I want to…I have done little more than train since Dramaden. However, training means nothing if I do not test myself. If I have nothing challenging me. But…people. I had never been allowed to talk to more than Alimar, or you. Zuneer only because he trained me. The other gladiators Alimar owned, until he started making me kill them. Tambek didn’t care. He knew the risk, but he…” She looked away. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid others will be hurt if I do not remain apart. And I am ashamed because I am too weak not to be so anxious.”
“You have always had such courage and strength. But it’s okay to be scared,” Doom informed her, his voice tender. “I am, too. I have always been afraid. Of losing you more than anything. The first time during our lives in slavery that I had not felt any fear at all was when I decided to escape. Because I had nothing left to lose when Alimar nearly killed you.”
She watched him as he spoke, then turned her face away. “I feared failure, because you were punished if I failed. But I never feared death because I wanted to die. The only freedom I believed in was the oblivion of death. But Alimar always made sure I lived. And now I am free, and still I know no peace.”
Doom frowned faintly, confused and concerned. “Why?”
She smiled bitterly. “When the dragon removed the glyphs and I was really free, I felt…lost. I only realized then that everything I knew but you was gone. Everything.” She could sense his gaze on her and she smiled faintly. “No, I did not nor do I want to be a slave again.”
Her smile faded. “But I did not know what was out there. I knew nothing so I held onto the only thing I knew, that I had always known.” She looked at him. “You. But how can I participate in these games? I do not know how to interact with other people.”
“The only way to learn is to walk among them. Talk to them. Listen to them. You already know what is important.” He patted her hand. “You stepped in when the lives of children were endangered.”
She turned red, looking away. “When we were children I had always promised myself that if lived to become an adult, I would never not help children, even if no one ever helped us. It was foolish of me. No one here is like Alimar.”
“It doesn’t matter if they are or not, Ti. You stood up for the children because someone had to.” He touched her chin to turn her face towards him. “The difference is you were successful. Not like those who abandoned us.” He smiled sadly. “I won’t tell you what you should decide to do, Ti. I won’t take your freedom to choose away from you, even if you trust me enough to let me. But I will stand with you, no matter what you choose to do. I will always be here for you.” She closed her eyes with a sigh, leaning against him as he tightened his arm around her.
THE BELLOWS EXHALED into the forge with a low growl as Doom pumped. Kerk took out the container holding molten metal with a pair of tongs, pouring it into the ingot molds. The man rubbed the back of his gloved hand across his brow, grinning up at the gromek. “Ah, lad, you should hunt the bigger game more often so you can stay here and help! My forge never burned so hot. This has to be one of the purest melts I’ve had in years.”
Doom glanced over to Tiwaz who was carefully cleaning a newly forged long knife in her hands. “I would have thought it would burn hotter if she was working the bellows.”
Kerk grunted. “Harder to teach that way.” He looked at the mold a moment. “Need to let this set and cool before we pour the next ones.” Taking his gloves off, he approached Tiwaz while Doom leaned against the table behind him. “Let’s see what you have there, lass.” Solemnly, she placed the weapon on the table, clasping her hands behind her back stoically but bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Relax, Ti,” Doom soothed.
“I never made anything before!” she retorted.
“You could have fooled me,” Kerk said after a thorough, thoughtful examination, holding it in his palms. “You have a gift, lass. This is as sweet a blade as any I have seen or made. Little large for a knife, but the longer hilt balances that out.” He squinted along the blade. “I don’t know how you blackened the metal. Most are not keen on matte weapons.
I’ll have to watch you next time and see, but I’m sure you can make a blade that polishes up nice in the future.” Turning it point down, he stabbed it into the wood, leaving it standing up for a moment before pulling it out, examining it. “Sharp as all hells. Durable, but not brittle.” He stuck it back into the table. “It’s plain, but we can work on fancier work later. Good job.”
Tiwaz’s pale features flushed with his praise, unconsciously squaring her shoulders and standing straight with pride. She started to speak when there was a knock on the half opened street door. Her smile faded to a neutral expression when the trio of wolflen entered.
Pack Leader bowed more deeply than he had the previous night. “Your decision, Warrior?”
She took a deep breath. “I would be honored to participate in the Solstice Games.”
He nodded, about to take his leave, when his golden eyes were drawn to the knife stuck in the table. Without asking, he pulled it out to study it. His fellows snickered at his bark of pained surprise when he cut himself along its edge testing it with his thumb. He growled, shaking his hand to rid himself of the sensation. Once his companions subsided, he turned his attention to Kerk. “Smith, how much do you ask for this?”
“You want it?” Tiwaz asked in shock.
He bared his teeth, a growl under his tones. “I am not ignorant because I am wolflen, Warrior. I can recognize good forging. This is strong. Good for hunting because it will not catch the moonlight. Plain, easy to make my own.” Dyed leather, carved bone beads, tufts of fur and feathers decorated each wolflen’s weapons. The styles varied between individuals, but the style held a similar pattern for all of an individual’s weapons. He looked back to Kerk. “What is this worth to you? I will give it.”
“A tempting offer, Pack Leader,” Kerk stated with nonchalance. “But it isn’t up to me because I’m not the one who made it.” He waved to Tiwaz. “You’ll have to dicker with her.”
Tiwaz stiffened at the sudden, unexpected attention the three wolflen suddenly gave her. At a loss, she said after a long silence, “I…don’t know. I never sold anything before.” The wolflen frowned deeply. She added with a helpless gesture, “Whatever you think is fair is acceptable.”
Kerk slapped a hand over his eyes, shaking his head mournfully. “I see I need to teach her good bartering if she going to survive up here,” he muttered under his breath.
Doom chuckled and gave the man a light nudge. “Wait.”
Pack Leader considered the blade in his hand, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he took the ornate, carved and decorated bone knife from his belt and laid it on the table. Kerk’s jaw dropped and the pair of wolflen spoke their shock in their own, growling tongue. The larger wolflen snapped his teeth at his companions, glaring until they subsided. When Tiwaz nodded in acceptance, he returned the gesture and left the smithy.
Kerk stared for a time before he shook his head in disbelief. “Never in my life would I have ever imagined seeing something like that. You want to know how good your work is? That there is a wolflen ceremonial knife that marks the leader of the tribe. Nothing short of death separates a wolflen from symbols of rank. Usually.”
Without a word, Tiwaz picked up the knife, staring at it, then at the street outside as she hugged the blade against herself protectively.
DOOM PUSHED THROUGH knee-high snow, pausing on the rise that overlooked the valley, watching the snowfall against the sky brightening with the coming dawn. He looked back at an annoyed snort and grinned. Tiwaz, in her panther form and walking in the path he created, was covered with the huge, feather-like flakes. “You look adorable,” he teased. She growled, shaking herself in irritation. The freedom from snow lasted only a moment as new flakes fell to take their place.
He looked back towards the sky. “It is getting close to dawn. You ready to head back before you have to change?” Her expression was a ‘what do you think’ look and began walking back towards Kerk’s house. “You’re doing much better as a panther. And very well in human form. I have to confess, you amaze me with how quickly you catch on to some of the more subtle nuances of hunting.”
When the panther fell behind, he stopped and turned to see what was the matter. He received a pawful of snow in the face. He sputtered, wiping his face impatiently as she bolted away. “Tiwaz!” he bellowed, chasing after her.
He never caught up to her. She was in the house and by the hearth wrapped in a blanket before the sun broke the horizon. Doom shook the snow off his cloak outside before entering, glaring at her faux innocent smile. “Tag, you’re it.”
“I will get you back,” he warned.
“Maybe,” she teased as Kerk walked in.
“Are you two at it again?” the man asked dryly, looking between the pair like he had his own children years ago.
“He started it.” “She started it.” They traded a look then burst out laughing. The smith smiled, shaking his head. “So, was hunting better?”
The pair sobered up immediately. “No. It was worse than the last time,” Doom reported, unhappy as he sat in his chair. “There was not even sign of more than rabbits and squirrels, and not many of those. I hesitated taking any because others need the meat, too.”
Kerk sighed. “I was afraid of that. Been getting worse every winter. Like there is something leeching the life out of the land. Doesn’t get much better in the springs and summers either. Prey used to be thick in the past. You could almost shoot an arrow into the air over the forest and end up with a feast for a week. The hunters have needed to range farther. Days away from Bralden sometimes, just to bring something back, and too many hunters have been going missing, from both the wolflen tribe and the others here.” He sat down heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “If the weather gets much worse, the village’ll begin to starve because no traders can reach us to make up for the lack with the snow so heavy on the roads.”
Tiwaz looked up at Doom. “Maybe we should start going out further, too, Doom. You said I am doing well.”
Doom would not meet her eyes. “Yes, but you are not that good yet and there’s a lot more you need to learn before I can teach you about longer hunting trips.” Her expression darkened. He tried to convince her. “It would be better if you stayed here. I can go farther and return faster alone.” Kerk remained silent, watching the interplay between the pair with concern.
Tiwaz said nothing as she got to her feet. “Ti, wait,” he said, trying to catch her arm, but his fingers only brushed the blanket as she sidled away from him. “Let me explain!” He flinched at the sharp sound of the bedroom door slamming, rattling several objects on the walls.
“She’s a proud one, Doom,” Kerk said as he returned with a mug of hot broth for himself and Doom. “I don’t think she’d ever take to being told she’s not good enough graciously by anyone. Even by you.”
“I know.” Doom clenched the mug until the clay began to squeal under the pressure and he forced himself to relax his grip. “She just won’t relax and enjoy her freedom. Our freedom. She has never known anything but training to fight and fighting. She never knew what it was to just play. I would have hugged her for her swatting snow into my face if it wouldn’t have ruined the moment…” He sighed. “Like I did just now. I don’t want her believing that everything is a life-or-death battle she must fight. That was what it was like when we were slaves. It’s different now.” He added in a low voice, “It should be different now.”
“Lad, there are some people who are always going to be like that,” Kerk pointed out in a gentle tone. “Makes no difference whether or not they were slaves once.” Doom said nothing, his gaze focused down the hall towards the room he shared with the temperamental woman. “And it’s too late now anyway. She is who she is and trying to change her will only make her dig her heels in deeper.”
“I suppose,” he agreed reluctantly.
WITH A CURSE straight from the arenas, Tiwaz threw the broken knife into the scrap box to join three others like it. It shattered when it hit
the back and crashed into the other broken pieces of metal. Kerk kept well back when she stormed out of the smithy towards the house. He waited a minute before following her.
As he expected, he found her behind the house in the empty horse corral with the practice long sword she had forged, performing a training routine at a furious pace. “Tiwaz, lass. You can’t keep doing this. You’ll hurt yourself or—”
She turned feral eyes on him, snarling. “I will do what I wish!” She brought the blade down on the large log in her practice area, lodging it deep in the heart of the wood.
He sighed. “Just because Doom won’t take you with him is no reason to lose your temper.” She glared at him. “You ought to do something else to take your mind off your troubles. Before you hurt yourself. Or me,” he added in droll tones as she yanked the blade out.
She froze for a moment, then turned on her heel. She jabbed the sword in another log as she stalked towards the house. “Fine.” Startled he convinced her to do anything, he stared after her for a few minutes.
“I am not looking forward to explaining this to Doom,” he muttered, heading back to the smithy. “But I would rather face him if whatever keeps her occupied. He’s less terrifying.”
IN HER ROOM, Tiwaz knelt, pulling out a small wooden box. She lifted the lid, paused, then dumped its contents on the bed. She picked up the raw ruby, putting it back with the utmost care. The coin with the ruby-eyed dragon made her pause to consider it for a time. “This is all I can think to do,” she said, as if answering an unseen person’s unspoken question.
She placed the coin by the crystal, brushing her fingers over both. Closing the lid, she slid the box back in place and changed into a set of duller brown leather clothing. She put the knife into her belt at her lower back, put on her cloak and gloves, and headed towards the wolflen camp. Few even tried to speak to her as she strode through with all the warmth and temper of a brutal winter storm.