Storm Wolf

by Stephen Morris

  “Feed it,” the Master quietly instructed. “Then send it into this first barn to consume the grain here.”

  “Consume the grain?” Spīdala was aghast. “Stealing money from a rich farmer is one thing, but taking the grain from this barn will mean starvation for the farmer and the farmhands when winter comes!”

  “Nevertheless, the grain must be taken elsewhere,” the Master told her. “Instruct the pūķis to consume the grain in this barn and then follow us to the barn where it must be deposited.” He put the pipe back between his teeth.

  The dragon continued to hover before Spīdala, sniffing at the bag she held.

  “No,” whispered Spīdala. “I will not be the cause of this farmer and his farmhands and their families starving this winter.”

  The Master continued to puff away on his pipe. “Feed the pūķis, child. It becomes impatient.” The dragon curled and writhed in the air, its great jaws never far from the small sack in Spīdala’s hand.

  “I know the dragon must be fed the first bites of each meal or it will slay the one who calls it,” Spīdala retorted, clutching Alexei’s fur so tightly that he whined in spite of himself. “But I would rather the dragon slay me and set me free from you than be responsible for the starvation that will follow the theft of the grain.”

  Alexei was shocked. He looked into Spīdala’s face and saw her determination in the light of the sparks drifting from the dragon’s jaws. The dragon huffed and chortled as its darting tongue touched first the sack and then Spīdala’s fingers clutching it.

  “How can I let you kill yourself in such a manner?” he yipped and whined at her. “How can you free me if you set the dragon on yourself?” But even as he barked at her he wondered if he could really stop her from freeing herself in whatever way she could from the Master’s despicable grip.

  “No! Do as he wishes!” Alexei barked at his friend, looking from her face to the Master and back. “Do not let the dragon harm her!” he barked at the Master, though knowing that the Master would never lift a finger to stop the dragon. The creature curled in a circle around Spīdala and Alexei, dragging its tongue around the woman’s waist, turning its head to spit a mouthful of fire when it was done tasting her clothing.

  “Feed it. Instruct it,” the Master answered her at last. “Do you think its consuming you will set you free? You are my captive until I set you free, no matter whether you breathe or not. Do you really think that my authority can be limited by such a paltry thing as death?”

  The dragon curled around them again, its head weaving up and down and its tongue darting out to taste Spīdala’s hand, her chin, her cheek, her shoulder. Alexei could see her trembling and hear her sniffling with fright.

  The dragon twined itself around them, touching its tongue to her throat and then sliding it up to her chin and across her face.

  Spīdala cried out and collapsed against Alexei, dropping the sack of food to the ground. “Forgive me, vilkatis!” she sobbed into his fur. “I… I cannot refuse him. I am too weak. The pūķis frightens me too much!” She sobbed and sobbed, trembling against him, and he stood firm, supporting his friend even as the dragon continued to gather its coils around them more and more tightly.

  Alexei whined at her, “Feed it! Feed the pūķis!”

  “Feed it, child,” agreed the Master, calmly puffing away on his pipe. “You will do as I instruct, in any case. You may as well do it while you still breathe.”

  Alexei felt the tremors wrack Spīdala once last time, and then she wiped her eyes on his fur and stood, clutching the sack again in one hand. Still shaking in the coils of the scarlet dragon, she reached into the sack and pulled out a bite of bread. She held it out and the dragon sniffed at it. Then its tongue darted out and the bread was gone.

  Spīdala reached into the sack again and pulled out the bite of sausage. She held it out and the dragon’s tongue darted again, in and out, as if suspicious that she might be feeding it something poisonous. Then the tongue seized the bit of sausage and pulled it into the dragon’s jaws. Alexei thought he saw the creature smile.

  Spīdala reached into the bag one last time and held out the bite of cheese. The dragon swirled and danced around them, its darting tongue tasting the air for Spīdala’s fear. Its tongue touched her hair and she cringed. It circled back around to face her and its tongue flicked the cheese into its mouth before it slid away and curled around itself in the air before the barn.

  “Now instruct it,” the Master repeated his earlier directive, continuing to puff away on his pipe.

  Spīdala began to sing again, her voice trembling, the words coming in broken syllables, but the dragon seemed to understand. It slunk through the open door of the nearest barn and, in the light of the small bursts of fire from between its jaws, Alexei saw it begin to consume the grain stored within.

  Spīdala kept singing and kept singing, her voice rasping and harsh from her tears and crying, and the Master kept smoking until finally the dragon emerged from the barn and Alexei saw the creature was now fat and blue again, satiated with the grain it had devoured as it had the household goods in the farmer’s house.

  The Master knocked the ashes from his pipe and hobbled over to Alexei and Spīdala. Without waiting to be told, Alexei crouched down and Spīdala climbed atop his shoulders. The Master followed and then Alexei rose into the air. The dragon followed the werewolf, and Alexei had to turn away, disgusted by the desire for Spīdala he saw still lurking in the fiery creature’s eyes.

  “That way.” The Master pointed with his crutch and kicked Alexei in the ribs. The werewolf set out, the dragon alongside him.

  They had only traveled a few farms away when the Master pointed to a particular set of barns below and Alexei descended as the first streaks of rose colored the morning sky. Spīdala, still astride the great werewolf, began to sing again, her voice still ragged. The dragon crawled to the doors of the barn and, in the same way as before, began to vomit out all the grain it had consumed. In the growing light, Alexei could see that the grain seemed unchanged despite having been consumed by the dragon. Regurgitating the grain, retching and heaving, the dragon began the slow transformation from blue back to scarlet and its thinner self.

  Finally, the retching done and the change in hue complete, the dragon dissipated into clouds of tobacco smoke again, and Alexei climbed wearily into the sky to take himself and Spīdala back to the barn where they had been sleeping.

  Alexei tried to sleep, but his stomach growled and shuddered. He couldn’t remember ever being so hungry before. It had been more than a month since he and Spīdala had fallen into the clutches of the Master of Wolves, and he had eaten only a few mouthfuls of grass or berries since then. His wolf fur had lost its sheen, and he had grown thin and haggard, his ribs showing through his skin and fur. He struggled every day against the temptation to slay something—anything!—and eat it without the permission of the Master of Wolves but resisted, knowing that there would be a punishment worse than hunger when the Master discovered he had eaten. Every day that he slept, he hoped against hope that the evening would bring deliverance from the Master’s clutches for both Spīdala and himself, but every evening he was disappointed of his hope. He dreamed dark, chaotic dreams and was beginning to fear that he would awake and discover that he had slain Spīdala as he had slain Grete and their children.

  He and Spīdala had been left alone at daybreak by the Master following another night of calling the scarlet pūķis to steal grain from one farmer and give it to another. The Master had instructed them to spend the day sleeping as much as they could. “There will be great doings tonight!” he had promised them. “I will need you both to be well rested!” Alexei dared not think of what horrible plans the Master might have in mind.

  But now, shortly after dawn, he and Spīdala were hiding in a dark corner in a hayloft at the top of a barn they had found open. This was the fourth or fifth barn the Master had taken them to, hiding them on a different farm every few days after a night or two of
magical thefts. The cattle stalls here were all empty, as they were in each of the barns they had been taken to, as the cattle would have been out in the pastures for the summer, but the hayloft was full of sweet-smelling hay. Alexei had led Spīdala into the corner, each of them confident that the full hayloft meant that no farmhand would be bringing in more hay from the fields, and so they would be able to hide and sleep undisturbed.

  Spīdala had lain down in the hay, close against one of the bales, and Alexei had lain down beside her, resting his head in her lap. She was stroking the fur between his eyes, and they were both on the edge of falling asleep when Alexei’s stomach began to rumble and growl. His gullet shook and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut the pain of his hunger out of his mind.

  “Poor vilkatis,” murmured Spīdala. “How long has it been since you have eaten? I think, not since the night we met?” She stroked his head and he shuddered again as his stomach rumbled again with hunger.

  “What can I do, poor vilkatis?” asked Spīdala. “How can I help you?” They both knew that though the Master brought her food every other day, which she had to share with the dragon, she would be unable to feed Alexei anything without the permission of the Master of Wolves and that the straw that surrounded them was no use to the werewolf. “If only I could give you something besides a few grasses or weeds to eat. If only there were some small animal here that I could give you.”

  Alexei whimpered in misery. He had no intention of ever accepting the Master’s offer to eat Spīdala, but he was afraid that the hunger growing in his belly might drive him mad and that he would awake some afternoon with Spīdala’s blood splattered about and her bones scattered around him as well. He cringed, shuddering at the thought and unsure of how to prevent it from coming true.

  Spīdala suddenly sat upright, clapping her hands. “I do know! I do know something I can do for you, vilkatis! Why did I not think of this before? It is not the same as meat, but I can get you food from an animal and I think it will escape the Master’s notice!”

  Alexei pulled his head up, opening his eyes to stare at her. “What would escape the Master’s notice?” he whined.

  “I can steal milk from one of the farmer’s cows,” Spīdala explained excitedly. “As I did for my husband. But this time it will not be theft simply to make the farmer poorer and my husband richer. It will be theft for a good reason: to stop you from starving!”

  Alexei remembered the wonderful, fresh warm milk he had drunk with his family back in Estonia, before… before he had killed them all. Would any milk ever taste so delicious again? He leaned forward and up, licking Spīdala’s cheek to show his appreciation for her idea.

  “You would like that, vilkatis?” She laughed quietly. “Well, then, let’s see if we can make it happen.” She sat up straighter, closed her eyes, and rested her clasped hands atop Alexei’s head, which he lowered back into her lap.

  Spīdala sang something, very quietly. Little more than a whisper but with a melody. The few words Alexei thought he could make out were in Latvian. The song seemed to go on and repeat itself, the melody twisting in the air. He began to fall asleep, but each time he did so, the rumbling in his stomach would wake him.

  Startled awake by the acute pangs in his stomach once again, this time Alexei heard something rustling in the straw nearby. Spīdala’s song seemed to have changed chords now and the melody hung in the air, beckoning and inviting. The straw rustled again and a large toad came hopping toward them. Alexei pulled his head up, fully awake now, to stare at the large wart-encrusted creature as it would hop, then pause, then hop twice and pause again. It finally hopped into Spīdala’s lap and peered at her face.

  Spīdala stopped singing as she looked into the toad’s eyes. Gently she cupped her hands around it and lifted it to her cheek. She was whispering to it now and it seemed to nod, as if in understanding. It stretched itself towards her and kissed her on the cheek. Spīdala held her breath and then gently kissed the toad on its cheek before setting it gently back into the straw beside them. It hopped off towards the ladder leading down from the hayloft and disappeared between the bales of hay and straw.

  Alexei cocked his head to one side, looking at Spīdala. “What did you just do?” he wanted to ask.

  Spīdala seemed to know his thoughts. “I called the toad with the song my mother taught me,” she explained, “and then explained that I need it to find the nearest cow and steal as much milk from her udder as it can carry and bring it back here.”

  Alexei continued to look at her quizzically.

  “The kiss?” She blushed. “The kiss was the price of its theft of the milk. Everything has its cost, does it not, vilkatis? Wouldn’t the Master of Wolves agree?”

  Alexei slowly wagged his great wolf head in agreement. Everything did have its cost, whether in terms of magic or otherwise. He had been learning the cost of everything since that day he had used the wolf magic to save his plow horses from the wolves and lost control of the werewolf transformation.

  “Now all we need do is wait.” Spīdala leaned back against a bale of hay and closed her eyes. In a moment, Alexei lay his head in her lap again. Spīdala was soon asleep, he could tell from her gentle breathing, but his hunger refused to let him doze for more than a few moments at a time.

  The shadows shifted in the hayloft. Alexei guessed it was sometime in the early afternoon now. Spīdala was slumped over, still asleep. He tried to not move, not wanting to jostle her or disturb her sleep. What nightmare did the Master of Wolves have planned for the coming night? Alexei tried not to think of that, but he wanted Spīdala to be as well-rested as possible when it came time to face the Master’s demands. Alexei kept hoping that Spīdala would find some way to free herself, at least, if not the both of them. But she could not do that if she were too tired to think.

  As he lay there, trying not to move or wake Spīdala, he heard the straw rustle again near the top of the ladder and saw the toad emerge from beneath the straw scattered about the loft’s floorboards. Alexei wondered how the toad had climbed and descended that ladder. “That must be part of the magic,” he decided, watching the creature slowly move across the loft towards them. But now the toad seemed even larger than it had this morning when Spīdala had first called it with her mother’s song. It was at least twice as large, its skin stretched tight across its bulging sides and haunches.

  The toad waddled and hopped, a strange combination of movements, slowly shifting its weight as it moved until it finally reached Spīdala’s feet. It sat there a moment and then croaked loudly, announcing its arrival. Spīdala stirred but did not wake. The toad croaked again.

  Alexei raised his head and nudged her side with his muzzle. She stirred and then, noticing the toad, startled fully awake. She reached out as far as she could toward it, offering her palms to it as she had that morning, and the toad heaved itself into her hands. She lifted it to her lips again, whispering to it. It seemed again to understand and nodded. Spīdala turned to Alexei.

  “Now, vilkatis, the toad has brought us the milk it has stolen from the farmer’s cows,” she explained. “If I was at home, as I was when my husband wanted the milk from the neighbor’s cows stolen, the toad would spit all the milk out into a bucket for me and it would be as fresh and delicious as if I had just taken it from the cow myself. But now, we have no bucket. So it must spit out all the milk it has brought us into your mouth.”

  Alexei jerked his head back, ready to gag at the thought of the toad spitting into his mouth.

  “Just as you have seen the pūķis vomit out the grain and goods it has stolen,” Spīdala told him. “Just like that.”

  Despite his hunger, Alexei nearly vomited himself in revulsion.

  Spīdala could see his disgust. She shook her head and leaned towards him, whispering into his ear as she had to the toad. “I am sorry, vilkatis, but there is no other way, is there? Close your eyes and try not to think of it. Imagine that it is a milkmaid, squeezing the milk from the cow directly into yo
ur mouth. Is that not a better picture in your mind?”

  Alexei considered that and then slowly nodded his agreement. Spīdala smiled at him and nodded as well. She brought the toad up and held it in front of Alexei’s face. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

  He felt the milk squirt into his mouth and dribble over his tongue. It was the freshest, most delicious milk he had ever tasted! He lapped it up as it spurted into his mouth, ran across his teeth, spilling out over his lips. He swallowed and swallowed, great buckets worth of milk spewing into his mouth as if he was kneeling alongside a milkmaid during the evening milking, just as Spīdala had promised. He kept drinking the spurting milk until his stomach could hold no more and the squirting gradually subsided, one last spurt splashing into his closed eye.

  He heard Spīdala heave a sigh of relief as she set the toad back down into the straw. Alexei opened one eye and saw the toad, now even leaner and thinner than it had been in the morning, hop quickly away and disappear into the straw of the hayloft. He closed his eye and dropped his head gently back into Spīdala’s lap.

  “Is that better now, vilkatis?” she asked, rubbing him behind his ears. “Is your hunger satisfied now, at least for a bit?”

  Alexei smiled, his lips curling back across the great fangs in his mouth, and nodded happily. He felt full and content, the happiest he had been since leaving his home in Estonia so many weeks ago. His stomach rumbled again, this time with contentment rather than hunger.

  Alexei and Spīdala fell asleep in the hayloft for what remained of the afternoon.

  That night the Master came to fetch them much later than usual. Long past dusk, he stood in the doorway of the barn and whistled. Spīdala and Alexei, having come down from the hayloft as the sun was setting, emerged from one of the empty stalls, where they had been waiting for the Master’s arrival.