Call of the Wolf (The Kohrinju Tai Saga)

by Nelson, J P

  I saw her get excited, too, but she was dabbing at her nose. I had seen the humans get sick a lot and touch their noses, but never my momma and I asked in concern, “Momma, are you getting a man-cold?”

  She shook her head, and then pointed me back to the buildings. “This one,” the big building in the inner wall, “is the Main House.” Pointing her finger around the outer wall and waving at everything inside, “This is called the Main Keep, sometimes it’s called Castle Fel’Caden. And this big gate is pointing to the southeast.” She pointed to the small gate at the top left, the one we could almost see off in the distance from our quarters. “Do you know what direction this is?”

  Bouncing just a little, trying to remember, I said, “North … um … north-ea- … no, it’s the west. It’s the west, right momma?”

  My momma smiled and winked at me, “That is exactly correct.”

  I jumped up in pride. Again I looked at my momma as she wiped her nose. I was going to ask again if she was getting sick, but she pointed again and began to explain as the floor began to move some more. My attention was captivated by this new experience.

  “Almost nineteen hundred years ago, six family groups came here to settle and mine the iron ore around these mountains. This big building was the third fort built and the only one still standing. The six families claimed large sections of land, each with their own mine and farmlands. For a long time they called themselves the Six Lords of Gevard.”

  As my momma talked, the floor moved again and I could see the whole country of Gevard.

  “As time went on, others came to settle, and of course children were born to the original families who wanted to be lord of their own lands. Eventually the lands overlapped each other and they fought among themselves for control. A Peace Parlay was finally called and rules were drawn up. Borders were agreed upon,” suddenly I saw little lines all over the country, “and each big section became known as a county, and each county was controlled by what became known as a Count or Countess.”

  “Since that time, families have gotten even bigger, so all of these counties have been split up into smaller portions of land.” I saw even more lines on our floor map. “What used to be called a county is now called a province, and the smaller portions are now called counties.”

  My momma was going slow, hoping I was following her, and I think I was doing pretty good. She was a good teacher, and like I said, she was going really slow.

  “Today there are sixty-one provinces, each of which has from three to eight counties. Some counties are from ten to twelve miles across; a few are twenty miles across like some of those here in Fel’Caden Province. Each Province has its own Main Keep, or castle, and a couple have two or three. Each county has at least one town or village.”

  I creased my own head, and looking down at the map I asked, “How big is a mile, momma?”

  The floor map changed again to show the Main Keep and she pointed, “If we walked all the way around the outside wall, we will have walked about one mile.”

  Staring, I just said, “Wow-w-w!”

  With her finger she pointed around the outline of Gevard’s border and said, “Today, Gevard is about four hundred and fifty miles north to south, and three hundred and twenty miles east to west.”

  I just looked up in awe. With a smile she added with a knowing whisper, “The Itahro Range is much bigger.”

  Momma pointed back to the map and continued my lesson, “The Main Keep is right in the middle of Fel’Caden Province, and this is important, so let’s remember. We are the second largest province with seven counties; each county has its own count or countess. The count or countess position is usually inherited, and when there isn’t a duke or duchess, they get together to decide who will become the new leader of the province, which is called the duke or duchess.

  “Do you understand, so far?”

  I thought about it and shook my head yes.

  “The duke or duchess keeps that position for as long as they live, or unless they give it up. But there is a whole new position, the person who is the leader of al-l-l of Gevard. This person is called the Chancellor. The duke or duchess of each province gets together every six years to decide which one of them will be the leader. That person takes their family, if they have one, to live here,” the floor changed to show the whole country and in the smack middle of it was a bigger version of something that looked a lot like the Fel’Caden Main Keep, “until a new chancellor is elected. This place is called Strattengar.”

  The outline of Gevard came up again, and then the outline of just Fel’Caden Province.

  “Now look carefully, our province is on the far right side of Gevard … this is the east. Roveir said we were going to be attacked from the east. It’s a long, long way from here to Strattengar. Now, each county has its own town or village, but they won’t be nearly as safe as the Main Keep.”

  My little mind was thinking hard, and I was staring at everything. I knew my momma, she was getting ready to tell me something I wasn’t going to like very much; I probably wasn’t going to like it a whole lot.

  My momma took my hand and squeezed, gently, and pointed to the moving floor map, “I don’t want to scare you, Komain, but in case something happens and we get separated, this is what I want you to do, and we are going to talk about this over and over again, until you have it in your so smart little mind; and until you can look at me with your precious blue eyes and tell it to me on your own.”

  I looked up at my momma; she had tears going down her face and blood was trickling from her nose.

  ___________________________

  From east to west, Fel’Caden Province was a bit more than forty miles across. The main keep was just off center to the east and higher up than most of the surrounding land, with the exception of the east, which kept climbing in elevation in the heart of the Sahrjiun Mountains. About sixteen miles on the eastern border, of both Gevard and the province, lay Brakstein Ridge. On the other side lay the deep Neispao Gorge, this marked the Gevard boundary.

  Five miles to the west rose Mustron Bluff, which traditionally was used as a lookout point and could oversee the entire province and into the connecting provinces. The main keep lay in the center and west of the two higher counties, the other five were below and were where much of the agricultural work was done; forests were everywhere and well tended.

  The safest place anywhere around would be inside the keep walls, she explained. I had not been properly trained in forest science, and while she had learned of secret tunnels, my momma was loath to teach them to me, simply because it would lead me into a world I was not prepared for. There were two tunnels, however, that only the animals remembered which might make all the difference in my safety, “Just in case,” she explained.

  Well concealed under the rose garden she had grown among the far side of the apple grove, there was an ancient trap door built into the ground. Under this door was a long ladder made of steel which descended to a winding, rock hewn tunnel that eventually led to a metal door surrounded by skeletons. Momma had actually been to this door. It had a special lock on it, a difficult and dangerous lock, but with a sly wink she looked at me and said, “It was just such a lock as I had been trained by a master to divine.” With a double raise of her eyebrows she added, “And divine it I did.”

  We both laughed, and it came to me that for a while it seemed her headaches had stopped. I didn’t understand, but I was happy.

  She went on to explain that inside was a room of wonderments and such things that the whole world had apparently forgotten. There was heat radiating from deep below, which was easily explained within study of Druidology, but which the builders of the original fort clearly didn’t understand. But there were rooms which were walled with ice and full of enough food to feed a small clan of elves for at least a year. There was an oven which seemed to always be burning, a special fountain where pure water always flowed, and the air was fresh if not sweet smelling.

  It was dark in this room, but t
he light was easy to make, and there were cots of woven cloth momma said were sometimes called a hammock. A locked door was on one side, but this door she didn’t open. By leaning close to it, she said she could magically see many hallways, but her senses warned her of death in the air. The feel of the room, however, told her it hadn’t been stepped into in many human lifetimes.

  “This, Komain, is where I want you to go if something ever happens and we get separated in a time of war.”

  “Momma, how come you haven’t gone there to hide?”

  “Because, my son, there are those who you can’t hide from. Sometimes it is best to save a good place until you really, really need it, when you have no other choices.” She studied my facial reaction and asked, “Does any of this make sense to you? Do you understand?”

  “Is it like waiting until supper time to eat our supper? So we have supper to eat instead of eating it all up at lunch?”

  Making my momma smile was the most important thing in the world to me, and she smiled a special smile as she said, “That is exactly what I mean,” as she tousled my head and pushed me over laughing.

  I got up while giggling, and then she leaned over and talked real soft, “You know what? I was able to change the open-lock secret.” She leaned close to my ear and whispered in a way that it seemed to buzz into my head, and it made my ear itch. But when she told me the secret, my eyes opened wide and I looked at her quickly, but she had her finger against her lips, “Sh-h-h … it’s our secret.”

  The only problem with the trap door plan was that it was currently covered in snow, but to that, my momma had a solution. That’s when she taught me how to crawl up our outer wall and hide with the honeybees. She had already talked to them about me sharing their hive, but it would be up to me how long I could lay still in all that honey. She had even put a container of water up there she said would last for days and days.

  On the morning of the fourth day after meeting the old man, Roveir, my momma was again in the dairy barn. I had been over there two days in a row to help milk, but this morning she had me do several chores in our quarters. After that I was to work for a while playing my scales on her guitar. After lunch we would go over floor maps and everything in preparation for the anticipated fighting.

  I had played my scales and had just finished the classic elvin piece, Ahf’Tmyar Pioski, when I heard a knocking on the door. Startled more so than frightened, because I had never heard anyone knock on our door before, except Barlan a couple of times, I stood the guitar in momma’s chair, slowly went to pick up a long handled wooden spoon, we didn’t have a real knife in our quarters, and quietly tiptoed over to the door.

  Again I heard a knocking; three firm raps against the door’s wooden center. If I had gone to the window I probably would have never answered the door, but I didn’t think about that, and like I’ve said, people didn’t knock, they just came on in.

  Opening the door just a smidgen, I saw an old Roveir sitting on top of that stallion just a pole’s length from the door. I just stared at him with my spoon in hand and saw he was looking right at me with a friendly look on his face. How did he get there without me hearing?

  “Hello, young sir.” He sounded sincerely genial, but somewhat awkward. “You played that Pioski very well. Did your mom teach you that?”

  I just kept staring at him while brandishing my spoon. He turned his head and looked at a tree, and I thought I heard him mutter to himself, “Of course she did, moron, who else would teach …?” Taking his hat off and brushing his head, he put the hat on his elbow, looked down then back up at me and opened his mouth to say something when I blurted out, “It is called Ahf’Tmyar Pioski in A minor.”

  He half chuckled and said, “Well now, I indeed stand corrected.”

  I wasn’t surprised and continued staring at him with a blank look. After all, what would a human know about music?

  “You know, I play the guitar, too.”

  Now I was surprised. Why would anyone waste time teaching a human how to play? Momma told me it takes longer than a human lifetime just to get all the chords right.

  “May I get down?”

  I kept staring.

  “I guess that’s a no?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean I can get down?”

  “No.”

  “Well, okay then. Would you mind gettin’ your momma?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’ll get her for me?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. So, do you think if I yell she’ll come out?”

  “No.”

  He winced at me, like he was trying to understand what I was saying, but I was answering his questions perfectly.

  “Is your momma inside?”

  “No.”

  “Oh … can you tell me where she would be?”

  “No.”

  “So you don’t know where she is?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the reason you can’t tell me where she would be is?”

  “Because I don’t know where she would be when you go there.”

  Roveir smiled ever so slightly, “Well, you sir … you are just too smart a whipper for me.”

  I thought about it, then nodded my head.

  “You’ve got me beat and out-thwarted sevenfold times.”

  “Yes.”

  He put his hat back on and asked, “Well sir, if I by chance happen to go out lookin’ for her, where is the one place you really don’t think I should go look?”

  I answered matter-of-factly, “The milk barn.” Then I thought to myself, ‘Stupid human.’

  Roveir dipped his head down and looked really stumped in thought. Then he looked up with a shake of his head and breathed a deep sigh and said, “Well skipper, should you see her before I do, please tell her I came with important news.” And with that he turned and rode off.

  At midday, I was stirring the stew pot so my momma would have something hot for lunch, when I heard horse hooves en route to our quarters. Running to the window, this time, I saw Roveir riding up with my momma behind him on Dahnté. Once more, with spoon in hand, I went to the door and opened it, wider this time.

  They came to a stop in front of the door and I carefully noted my momma’s arms wrapped around the human’s waist; I didn’t like it. Roveir looked me level in the eye and casually said, “I found this princess walkin’ alone in the snow. Am I correct that she is important to you?”

  He caught me off guard with such a question, “Yes,” I said while still brandishing my spoon.

  Nodding thoughtfully, Roveir then asked, “Will you grant me the honor to dismount and lend your momma assistance in gettin’ down?”

  Again he caught me off guard. Momma talked a lot of honor and I wanted to see what it looked like. I hesitantly nodded my head.

  Looking back, I am sure my momma needed no help getting down from that horse, but he swung down with ease beyond his age, and then reached up and helped her down as if she had been made of glass. Holding each other’s hands, they made lingering eye contact, and then he graciously bent down and brushed his lips against her hand. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t like this, either. Absent-mindedly I slapped my spoon against my leg.

  Roveir dropped the reins and Dahnté went stock-still as that old man escorted my momma to the doorstep. As they were walking I saw a thin necklace around my momma’s neck that looked to be a braid of silver and golden threads. At the bottom was a jewel like a sapphire encased by a clear crystal. It was breathtaking and when she turned in just a certain way, this jewel glittered like blue diamonds.

  As my momma walked up the steps, Roveir stopped at the base and stepping one foot up, took off his hat and folded his arms on his upward knee and looked at me from just below my eye level. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and I just stared at him with the same blank expression as before. I saw the enormous age in his features, a haunting presence of uncounted defeats and victory, but despite his appearance of antiquity and his current
ly pleasant demeanor, this man had a vast amount of power and charisma left in him.

  “You know, skipper, I know you don’t like me much, and I understand why. You got no reason to trust anyone, and I don’t blame you, I’m not one for trustin’ my own self. Were I standin’ on your deck, I’d be the same way.”

  He was watching me intently and I was just staring at him back. “You’ve gone through Zaeghun’s Lair and back, and I would change things for you if I could, but I can’t. But I’m goin’ to make you a promise, I’m promisin’ you that as long as I live, ain’t anybody goin’ to come in on you and hurt you or your momma.

  “I don’t expect you to believe that just on my say so. But one day you are goin’ to see that I told, that I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

  He nodded toward my spoon with a sly grin and said, “A body can tell you got a pair of steel bal- …” he threw a quick glance at my momma, then back at me, “… that you got lots o’ guts, and I’m appreciatin’ you not clottin’ me in the head with that spoon. But we need to talk war.” Roveir looked to the east, “There’s no way around it …” he glanced to the main keep, “… there’s a huge fat and lazy man in there who’s in charge and ain’t got no sense.

  “That war is comin’ right here and its comin’ quick. A good skipper has got to be smart, and you’re goin’ to have to be a good skipper. I’m goin’ to make sure the bells ring in time for you to save your momma and get her to that gate door, yonder.” He pointed to what I now knew was called the West Gate. “Can you keep your amazin’ hearin’ tuned to the sound of those bells?”

  I nodded.

  He smiled in a way I couldn’t help but smile back, and I tried not to, really. “That’s a good lad, and the makin’ of a great skipper.”

  Roveir gave me an emphatic nod, then put his hat back on and stood back off the step. He glanced up at my momma, then stepped in Dahnté’s saddle so smoothly I almost didn’t hear the saddle creak. He pointed a finger at me and said, “Stand fast the tiller and ready to beat to quarters.” To my momma he pulled the front of his hat again, and then he was gone at a fast clip.