by C. J. Haines
The Order of Events
The Red Wolf
By Chris Haines
Part of “The Secret Genesis”
A “Plate-16/Planet of Plains” Story
There can be no Present, without Past actions committed
-Prologue-
Long ago, in the infinite blackness of space, before our world had come to be, there existed a great being of wonder and righteousness. This being traveled the ever passing millennia of his existence, alone and filled with the need to create, and so, in time, he did. The being created a world of shimmering grass, great mountains and of life, the water of which was to be harvested from the depths of the world, as none dwelled upon the surface. The life of this world was the race of humans and that of beasts. Each of them was given a soul to call their own and a mind to which they would hold their inner council and memories in. But this was not the end of his creation. Upon the surface of the world was bestowed a great tree, a tree that was filled with great life and held the Aura; the gateway from this existence to the next for the souls of those whose years had finally ended upon what would be known as the first plain. Soon stone walls were forged around this great tree, many encircling it to grant protection from the outside, for none were allowed near this sacred tree.
As the sacredness of the tree was of great purpose, the being of creation created two very meaningful creations to fulfill duties bestowed upon them. They were to be brother and sister, and to live many years upon years, for they were not any ordinary pair. The first great figure, that which the being created was the Mother. She was as a queen to all humans on the planet, as she was mightier than they were. Her purpose was to guard the Sacred Tree with her very life. With her purpose she was granted grand dressings of ceremonial manner. A garb of flowing cloth wrapped about her, white and soft green garnering her form as she wore a headdress that fit atop her head, royally, as more clothes flowed from it. A veil covered her face, with long, white ribbons tied into the back of her hair to blow freely with a tone of majestic nature as the wind would catch them in drift. Of her many superiorities, one was beauty, one that was above all others and would be eternal through the passing of time, as long as her purpose remained. Another creation soon arose by the creator’s command, as he was called the Nightwatcher; the king of all beasts. His purpose was to deliver the souls of those who died to the Sacred Tree, so that they may be one with the Aura and pass on to the next plain of existence, and not wander in search of it. The Mother was given constant refuge in the Great Temple of the Order, the stone structure that had been created, surrounding and climbing the Sacred Tree with its tower. Its namesake a sensible one, for the world was kept in order by those within. The Nightwatcher was to patrol the face of the planet, his purpose to keep peace and see that none were to murder and slay another. The punishment for which doing so would be death from the Nightwatcher, a deed which he carried with great zeal. The beast was formed a fear filling sight, but still looked very glorious as he fulfilled his deadly duties. He was formed that of a goat, yet in many ways he carried the build of a man. His head, which sat planted upon a sturdy, long neck, stood with a crown of just horns; straight and true. His fur was colored as bone, with a gold shimmer. His hooves were firm, and looked as if never in use, for their cleanliness was untiring. His hands were near that of a human but patched with fur and with smooth fingernails at their tips. Upon his back were beautiful wings; feathery, white and wide. The fur of his back was patched with an eerie sight. To look upon it was to look at the night sky, stars and comets looking to ride their way across his furry hide. Finally, a purple cloth was wrapped around his waist, bells hanging and clanging at his side. He was a truly glorious sight, serene, and yet unforgiving in the eyes of those soon to be dealt death for their sinful actions.
The world was now born and ready to grow on its own. The being of creation now watched as his two greatest creations were to live upon the planet, to keep order and watch out for the souls of his creations.
Over many hundreds of passing years, eight-hundred to be exact, the world had shown great growth. Cities, villages, friendships, clans and families had been built and sustained. But with all the good that had come, a great amount of bad had also. Weapons had been fashioned, villages were burned, war was made, greed had grown in abundance, and life was taken. The Nightwatcher had appeared to be failing in his birthright. The world was slowly but surely being enveloped by death and destruction. It was not to his being flawed and filled with lack of devotion that this came to be, it was just that too much bad was happening in too many places, and he could not be everywhere at once. Feeling ashamed of his apparent failure to protect, he went to his sister, the Mother. He told her of the fear, hate and murder that was taking the world. She felt horrible as he did. The world was falling, but what could she do? She was not ever given leave of the Order, as she was to see that none would reach the Aura, as it served as more than the gateway to the next. It served as a great power, which only the Mother was allowed to use.
The Nightwatcher had in many ways grown envious of his sister’s duty. She did not have to leave the temple. She did not have to even raise a finger. Within the passing years of many, his envy grew hate, and then his hate grew lust for power. He wanted more than what he had, as patrolling the planet for many hundreds of years had grown tiresome to his needs. He wanted something that was more to his liking, and ruling upon a great temple of stone was not a bad sounding purpose to him at all.
As the world was only many hundred years old, it seemed to have fallen too far into evil to reach out to and pull back to innocence. The Nightwatcher then came to his sister once more and proposed that they slaughter all living things, have their creator start over again and create more humans to live on the weary world. The Mother did not think kindly of this proposition and replied that she would think of a better way to deal with the evil that was spreading. At this moment a voice rang from above, the creator had a plan of his own and boomed it out to his two creations.
The world was filled with evil, yes, but there was still good amongst the bad, so decreed the creator that a race like none other on the planet would be created to cleanse the world of humans with its intent, with its purpose.
Great runes were cast into the great moon that circled the planet. An eclipse was made to occur, an eclipse the world would never forget. The warm, searing light of the sun shot through the etchings in the moon, creating a great circle of runes upon the planet on an open plain. The circle glowed with great purpose and then the ground caved in, having melted away. Great flames soon rose from the pit that had been formed by the runic presentation, a wild flicker cast outward from its edges.
Those of the world were far too busy warring and murdering to notice the act of their creator. Amidst the clash of swords, the burning of villages and the screams of the innocent, nothing seemed audible to break the barrage of sound. But all sound and all movement stopped as a heart stopping howl was let out from the burning pit, the howl so great and so fear filling that it filled the entire world in echo.
There was silence for nothing but several blinks of an eye, and then the sound of movement, like that of a thousand feet stomping upon coals, began echoing from the pit. The beasts of fear had emerged. Thousands upon thousands of grey-furred, sharp-toothed, bushy-tailed wolves had emerged from the pit. Their eyes burned like kindling in the night. They left their birthplace with a rather leisurely advance and then all gave out one loud unified howl, which shook the dust from the ground and the bones of the living. This led the wolves to increase their speed, one hundred fold, each leaving a burning trail of fire upon their tracks.
The world was filled with the horrors of the be
asts as they began ripping, tearing and burning through the sinful, murderous lot of the world. Evil was getting its due comings and neither blade nor shield would stop the onslaught of the enthusiastic wolves. The Nightwatcher and the Mother watched from the Order, their eyes wide in amazement at the success of the wolves and their diligence which was never failing. In time, the evil of the world had been slain, the bodies of the dead burnt and glowing as the world bathed eerily in the embers. With the slaughter now over, the sun began to peak from behind the moon, revealing bright, warm sunlight down upon the world.
The Nightwatcher stood next to his sister as she nodded approvingly to him. The job was done well and all those who were good had survived, though deep within himself the beast found he felt that he wished they had not. Just as he was to go and claim the souls of the dead, for delivery to the Aura, something strange had happened. The wolves’ eyes burned with a great malevolence. In their deeds of death they had grown a liking and great hunger for human flesh. Though their purpose was over with, they were made with free will, as all other creations were. Still feeling the thirst for death and destruction, the wolves made their way across the world once more, and this time, any flesh, good or bad, was game.
The brother and sister watched as streaks of flame gripped the world. They had to do something, for the beasts were making their way for the temple, destroying any city, town, or innocent soul that was in their path. The Mother requested her brother’s assistance in combat, and though he did not like the idea of taking orders from her, he heeded her appeal and dove down from the temple’s tower and was amongst the wolves, clawing, kicking and raking them aside in fury. The Mother stood on the tower balcony, watching her brother fight valiantly among the beasts, and went inside a great chamber atop the stone structure of the Order, the chamber of the Aura. She touched her hand to the Aura and her body was soon filled with a great light. With her gifted power, she stretched her hand out and pointed through the chambers opening and shot a great, green shaft of lightning from her fingertip. It collided with a mass of wolves and sent them sprawling across the planet’s face, leaving them twisted and broken, never to rise.
The Nightwatcher’s attention was brought to the chamber above as he stared in amazement at the power which the Mother had wielded. Due to her close bond with the souls as their protector, she was capable of many great things, her power only greatened by the Aura. Battering several wolves away from him, the Nightwatcher leapt to the outermost wall of the temple and watched as the wolves fled. The Mother dropped beside him and voiced her recognition. She was proud of her brother. He had fought valiantly amongst the wolves, and had proved himself a great fighter before her. She had never seen him fight before, and was not shy in letting him know how she thought of his prowess in the face of combat.
But there was still work to do. The wolves had only fled, and many of them remained to terrorize those who remained living. It seemed a dim hope that the two of them could fight such odds, the Mother only being able to harness the greatest enhancements of the Aura by touch. With hope seemingly lost, she buried her head in hands and wept, for the first time in her hundreds of years upon the first plain. Her brother looked upon her not with sympathy, but with hatred. She was the guardian of the souls of all living things and was crying in fear of defeat. Soft emotion served no purpose to the beast, in this situation or any other. The wolves must be met in battle, head on, with a willing mind and an ungentle fist crashing upon them. In his eyes, she was now truly weak.
But not all hope was lost. The voice of creation rang from above once more, delivering hope. A great clan of warriors rose from the west, bringing with them the dawn. Riding on horseback and armored heavily with golden armor, they were brandishing great spear shafts with skill. The armored ones galloped to the outermost wall of the temple in mass, as one of their manner called upon the two figures standing upon the wall. The speaker was the leader of the clan, his name being Karamka. He was a warrior with a great helmet bearing horns upon it. He offered the service of his warriors to the brother and sister, for they had been called upon from their home, by the being of creation, to fight side by side with the great creations. The Nightwatcher was impressed at their numbers and leapt down to greet them, sending sand billowing from his feet. He accepted their aid and soon led their clan after the wolves to leave the beasts as nothing but dust beneath their feet and hooves.
Across the land they strode, hurriedly. The wolves were not far from them, now. Seeing their burning trail ahead of them, the great multitude of armed warriors, led by the Nightwatcher, brandished all weapons ahead of them, ready to clip the first wolf within blade or spear shaft length. Within but moments, the chase which had gone for near half a day, had turned into an all out fight for life.
Blade went against sharp tooth and claw. Fur rustled and armor glinted in the beaming sunlight. Blood spat across the dry burnt land, as both sides’ weapons pierced their opponents’ flesh. The Nightwatcher stood triumphantly amongst his comrades as the wolves were beginning to thin out. The wolves in fear of death, fought desperately to create an opening for escape. As they saw themselves encircled by the golden clan and their tall-standing, beastly partner, the wolves made one last attempt at freedom. In all their number, they had charged, creating a fleshy battering ram as they crashed their way through the encirclement and broke free, leaving only those in the back of the line to soon lay slain upon the ground.
Running hurriedly in fear of their pursuers, they gained a great amount of ground ahead of their antagonists and came to a mountain pass that sat between two great stretches of mountain. Seeing no other way of escape, they charged through the empty pass and left a trail of cinders behind them.
The Nightwatcher and his followers were not as far behind the wolves as the beast would have hoped. The beast knew what was beyond the mountains, for he had traveled it many a time, the clan at his back also having knowledge of it.
Continuing onward through the pass, the warriors were, to the surprise of the beast, very strong and full of dedication, something he did not see much of in humans and did not think was capable of finding within them. Now that they were upon open desert, with harsh winds constantly blowing, it was going to be a greater challenge to track down the wolves. Issuing orders, the Nightwatcher and Karamka divided the warriors into several groups and sent them each in different directions into the harsh weather. Karamka would bring one final group with him and head straight forward through the wilderness, due to a hunch that he felt was good. The Nightwatcher decidedly traveled across the mountain side in flight, having plans of his own.
After a long travel through the sands, the armored warriors were still wary and ready to fight at any moment. Karamka saw something ahead of them and surmised that not far from where they stood was an encampment, with tents blowing eerily in the wind.
Entering the camp, the warriors held their weapons at the ready. They were in dangerous territory now, the land of the Clan of Ernai. Watching the tents sway wildly in the wind as sand scraped against the armored clan, causing an echoing scrape, Karamka trudged through the camp, and then saw before him the bodies of many wolves. The beasts lay dead upon the ground, their bodies torn and mangled, most likely due to severe treatment by a sharp blade.
Karamka looked up from the mess of bodies and saw a figure standing upon a rock, cloaked and fastened with many clothes about him. His face was covered regally. Karamka called upon the figure to bring himself forth, and the figure obliged. Leaping from the rock in an almost animalistic manner, he stood before the great warrior.
Many others, dressed in according fashion to the first figure, appeared from behind rocks and tents, wielding long, tri-pointed blades. The first figure, Grede, who was leader amongst them, was a vicious sight. He removed his face wrapping, from which his eyes were formerly the only visible aspect of his face, and revealed his true face, horrifically scarred from many years living amongst the rabid winds of the desert around them. He spoke to Karamka of
the slain beasts that lay before them, and confessed that the Ernai were indeed the ones that slew them. The beasts had invaded their territory, and before they were aware of the presence of the Ernai, were killed.
Karamka eyed the repulsive looking leader with an eye of favor, mixed with distrust, looking him up and down. Though he did not trust the Ernai, for they were a dangerous and mysterious clan, he couldn’t help but confess his thanks to them for slaying the beasts.
Bowing his head, Grede revealed a pair of sharp fangs and smiled. He and his kind were only defending their land when they had committed the killings of the beasts, and now they bid Karamka and his people to leave, for the Ernai had grown used to the dismal lands that they had lived in, but the winds could be harsh to strangers’ flesh.
Upon this request, paired with a warning, Karamka left the encampment with his warriors and they made their way back to the mountains.
The Nightwatcher stood on the side of the mountain pass, gripping onto rocky mass. He had turned around from searching the mountains and decided to head back to the Order, due to his own agenda. Looking out from his perch into the sandy wilderness, he could make out no shape or form of the warriors’ return. Seeing that he had no need to worry about them, he leapt from the mountain side, sending rock crumbling from where his sharp fingers were formerly gripped, and started a flight back across the wide open, body laden plains.
With the souls of the fallen in mind, the Nightwatcher flew above the scattered mess of death below him. So many souls were to be claimed and taken back to the Aura. This caused him to think deeper about the subject. Bringing them back would only feed the purpose which he loathed so much. Instead of bringing them back to his sister, maybe he could take them for his own. A question had risen in his mind as he wondered what would come of an action that his mind had proposed; the stealing of souls. With the spread of dead creations great, he knew he could land at any point below and be welcomed by several unmoving corpses to bring answer to the dark question that had entered his ever twisting mind.