The Order of Events: The Red Wolf

by C. J. Haines

  As Sofius rushed through the falling chaos, he leapt through the air and entered the tunnel, sliding on his back, just barely making it as a huge piece of ice slammed downward and blocked the tunnel entrance behind him.

  Grede was dead, and Sofius was alive, but for how long?

  Sofius sat in the icy tunnel and bled. He looked to the entrance as he lay halfway in and saw a figure standing in the tunnel, an outline, dark against the blue light pouring in.

  Sofius bled more as he watched the figure approach him and then kneel to him, a hand gripping his throat…softly, to check his pulse, followed by a friendly voice. “Sofius, you’re alive! Let me get you up, careful, you look really bad.”

  Haten helped Sofius up and helped him through the tunnel and back out to the wide chamber.

  Sofius cradled his head on Haten’s shoulder, looking upon the bloodied scene. Dead Ernai were everywhere and being picked up by the survivors and tossed into the blaze. Sofius could not feel anything as his body was numbed. He could only hear the words of Haten as he spoke. “We’ve won, Sofius, we’ve won! We lost the best of us, everyone but you. We can head back to the Sharp Sands now…Sofius?”

  Haten felt Sofius’ weight drop on him and held him tightly, calling others to his aid as he checked Sofius’ heartbeat, pulling shreds of cloth from his own cloak as he called to Sofius.

  “Sofius, don’t go, come on! Don’t go Sofius, remember Moira!”

  -Chapter 18-

  Present

  The night had come. The town of Hera was burnt, embers floating softly as a stiff breeze tore them from their places of rest.

  The broken tower sat cradled in a pile of ash and flickering wood, and then something happened in the silence of the destruction.

  The dead form of the tower creaked, and then what remained of the side was broken outwards by a hefty blow. The metal, singed form of the warrior, Kurlank, stepped out from the opening, wood bent outwards from the structure.

  The metal one surveyed the destruction that sat before him. It was dark, illuminated only by the last life of burning embers around the desolate scene.

  Kurlank stepped onward from the crashed tower, the ground ridden with ash and embers, spitting out from beneath his heavy tread, as he made his way outside of the remains of the outer walls, carrying the crumpled form of Samana in his arms.

  Kurlank looked across the distance, seeing a forest not far north from his position. It would be a good place to take rest and shelter, and for him to treat the wounds on the unconscious Samana, her body scraped, bloodied, burnt, and bruised as the metal one held her in his care.

  Stepping onward, Kurlank made his way for the forest, bearing the deeply wounded Samana with him.

  The Red Wolf was running, and running fast.

  Heading north, he kept a great gallop as he tried to gain as much distance from the burning sight as possible, the thoughts of his mistake flowing through his head in repetitive motion as he tried to think of what to do next.

  But what would he do? He thought hard and long, as he ran. With the one destiny had bestowed upon him now dead, how could he fulfill his destiny without her? He could not find another, he thought.

  As the ground was tread upon heavily by the furry, red form, the Red Wolf was soon accompanied by several other wolves at his sides. Speaking together, finishing each other’s sentences, they spoke to the running beast. “What is it you do? Why do you flee?”

  The beastly one was coming to a hilly region of grass, scattered with ashy, dead ground, and leapt. Morphing into his beastly, yet boyish form, he landed on the tip of a hill, turning to the surrounding wolves as he spoke. “I killed the girl. I killed the one I was to fulfill the prophecy with, I cannot continue.”

  The wolves stood, encircling the boy, and spoke, trying to reason with him. “You can, and you will. She is dead, but you can still continue, you must find another to fulfill the prophecy.”

  The boy turned away from the wolf that spoke the last word, but was faced by another, and spoke. “But how can I? Destiny told me she was the one. There cannot be another…maybe she was right…”

  The wolves howled and gritted their teeth at the boy, speaking furiously to him. “She was right? Do you know what you speak of? You must fulfill the prophecy, it is your destiny!”

  The boy howled back at the wolves, and cast his hand out before them, speaking in a dictating manner. “No, I will not. I want a life of my own!”

  The wolves growled with fury, and closed in on the boy. “This is not your life, you are our tool. You must fulfill your will. Our blood commands it!”

  The boy growled and shook his head. “It is my life. I’m going to be my own tool, and build something for myself.”

  The charcoal boy turned into his beastly form, and barred aggressive fangs at the surrounding spirits, who replied with shaken heads and gritted teeth, speaking final words as they vanished from sight. “What can you build from a world that is not your own?”

  The voices faded, as did the spirits, and the Red Wolf sniffed the wind, as a soft breeze came upon the hill. The moon was high and watchful above, a slither, silent and serene.

  Leaping from the hill, the beast ran speedily, looking for some place, somewhere, he could make his own. He kept thoughts of the future in his mind, as he thought of what he was to build for himself, for he was his own, and no others.

  Kurlank had made it to the forest greenery, and found a nice, soft opening, setting Samana upon it. Gathering water, and any plants with medicinal properties he could, the metal one made haste, and returned to the still warrior maiden.

  Her face was covered in spotty ash, a good bruise on her forehead, where a plank of wood must have hit her on the towers drop. The rest of her arms, and legs, were slightly burnt, and in the fashion of her face, cut and bloodied.

  Kurlank ran some water over the wounds to clean them, and took some medicinal herbs, and set them on the wounds, and tied them down with firm brush from a downed tree.

  He could fix her up for sure, but with the Red Wolf gone, and still a three day walk to Murta Sota, things seemed pretty bad. Kurlank could carry her weight, walking there himself, but it would be too risky to carry her with such wounds. She needed treatment now, as he gave it to her, and a good amount of rest to heal. He did not know how long it would take for her to regain consciousness, or if she ever would, and in the time he would fix her, the Red Wolf would grow ever closer to his destination of Murta Sota, or so Kurlank thought.

  The sun was beginning to rise, and the beastly one had taken a good distance from the town he had burned to nothing.

  The Red Wolf spied ahead, and saw a small structure of sorts, and tread his way there, speedily, curious of what he would encounter on his new outlook.

  The structure in question was but a wagon, covered with dust and with a rather scrappy look as it lay on the ground with its wheels broken, a length of canvas blowing softly upon it as the breeze met it.

  The Red Wolf investigated the planted wagon, as he heard rumbling from the inside, and soon discovered what it was.

  A boy, only of the age of ten, rolled out from the wagon and hit the Red Wolf on the nose with a stick, yelling as he did. “Take that, and that!”

  The beast jumped back from the strikes, and made distance from the boy, and then circled him curiously, as the boy stood clothed with ragged garments, burnt and dusty, with a small wrapping of a hat, with shoulder length, brown hair hanging out.

  The boy held the sharpened tip of the stick at the wolf in a defensive manner, and held his ground, speaking. “Get away! I don’t have any food, just get away!”

  The Red Wolf watched the boy, and spoke to his surprise. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The boy dropped his makeshift spear, and spoke, feeling confused. “What are you? I’ve never seen a beast like you, your color, or even a beast talk before, at that.”

  The wolf shook his head, and then stood on all fours before the boy, and spoke in his monotone.
“I’m sure you haven’t seen this before either.”

  The boy watched as the red wolf morphed before him, and made himself a charcoal colored boy, not taking his full armor in transformation, but only that to cover his bottom half.

  The boy stood perplexed, and fell onto his back, staring at the sight, pointing his hand out at the charcoal figure. “You changed! I’ve never seen that before!”

  The charcoal boy held his hand out to the boy, helping him up from the ground, and patted his shoulder. “I’ve come in peace. Is this thing your home?”

  The boy looked at the grounded wagon, and nodded. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. “It is, but I have no food or water, here. I finished the last of it this morning. Are you from around here? Where do you come from?”

  The charcoal figure looked out at the distance, speaking to the young boy that stood at his side. “I don’t have a home…”

  The boy pulled his wrapped hat, and bumped the charcoal boy’s arm. “You can stay here with me. You can help me search for food and water. There are some woods, not too far south from here. We could go there!”

  The charcoal boy looked at the young boy, and then around the empty space of grass, with the wagon resting upon it. “Do you have parents or…anyone?”

  The boy allowed his head to slump, and picked up his sharpened stick, speaking gloomily. “No, I have no one…”

  The beastly boy felt bad for the young one, and lifted his head, his hand under the boy’s chin. “I’ll stay then. Show me that forest with the food and water. I’ll help you get what you need.”

  The boy made a look of excitement, and shouted. “Alright, let’s go then!”

  The boy ran off south for the patch of woods he spoke of, and gestured for the charcoal one to follow him. “Come on, let’s go!”

  The boy ran speedily, trying to beat the charcoal one, and then was picked up from the ground wildly and tossed on the furry back of the red beast as he shot off for the southern forest patch the boy said would bear food and water.

  The Red Wolf thought to himself as he tread. The girl was right. Maybe he could make a life for himself, here, with this boy. Now he would have someone to take care of, and that needed him.

  Back at the Order, Amen and Henk were improving, and had finished their afternoon lunch treatment of medicinal fruit, and sat bathing in the sunlight streaming from the windows.

  Both were feeling more energized as the days were passing. Henk called to Mensh who was behind the counter, cleaning out their eating bowls. “Ugh…I don’t know how much longer I can take this whole bed thing. It’s getting too tiresome.”

  Henk stuck her tongue out, as Amen looked out the window, Mensh replying to Henk as she put the bowls, now clean, away into a shelf under the counter, ducking to the view of Henk.

  “Well, maybe Maela wouldn’t mind me taking you guys for a walk, go and get your blood running…again.”

  Henk agreed, and looked to Amen, curiously, as he spied out the window from his bed.

  “Yeah, I think that would be good, to feel my legs again…Amen, what’re you doing?”

  Amen looked at Henk, and pointed to the door, as it opened, answering Henk’s question. Maela, accompanied by the Mother and Hoosun, entered.

  Maela questioned Mensh as she made her way to the counter, leaving the other two behind her standing beside Amen. “Have they gotten their serving of fruit and medicine this noon, now?”

  Mensh answered favorably, having risen from the counter, and walked from around its confines. “Yes, I just finished giving it to them. They seem to be choking it down a lot better, now.”

  Henk stuck her tongue out, and spoke in accord. “Oh yes, quite a lot better. Hello Hoosun, Mother, how’re you, today?”

  The owl held his feathery limbs behind his back and answered the young one, as the Mother stood at his side, silent and watchful. “I’m doing good, young one, but there lies a more important question. How’re you doing, this fine day?”

  Henk rolled her eyes, and leaned on her arm, looking out the window upon the grassy ground, outside, and the fruitful trees, as shafts of sunlight bathed them gloriously. “I’m doing okay. Wish I could go outside though. I’m getting tired of sitting here. It has been too long since I’ve been able to feel my feet on solid ground.”

  The owl nodded in agreement and gestured to the Mother with his elbow, voicing a proposition. “Well, I would imagine so…Mother Dhahn, we wouldn’t be able to get these two outside, would we? They look like they rather deserve it, spending days in bed as they have.”

  The Mother heard the thought, as she heard the bustle of Mensh and Maela in the background, Maela lecturing Mensh on where things go, and then answered Hoosun with a favorable reply. “Sounds like a good idea. Maela, we’re going to take these two for a good stroll, outside.”

  Maela had finished her lecture, and walked to the bed ends, rubbing her hands on her apron, tiredly. “Sounds like a good idea to me, get the blood back in those limbs, aye, sounds good to me.”

  Mensh made herself a place at Maela’s side and poked the old healer’s shoulder. “It’s all organized back there. Can I go with them, Maela?”

  The old healer went over to the counter to inspect it, giving her answer as she looked over the medicine shelf. “If this stuff is all in good order, back here.”

  The weather outside was nice and fresh, Hoosun and the Mother stood outside the infirmary, breathing in the fresh air with Henk and Amen, who were very glad to be outside again. The joy of the outdoors wasn’t even missed on Amen, as he stood against the wall, his emotionless face bathing in the sunlight.

  The infirmary door opened and Mensh came out, closing the door as she left.

  Hoosun stifled a laugh, and stood awaiting the approach of the infirmary assistant as she made her way to his side. “Got it good and organized this time, eh, Mensh?”

  Mensh looked back at the infirmary, as she heard loud grumbling from within, the culprit of which was Maela. “This isn’t in the right place! No, this goes there, and that goes here…grrr.”

  The owl patted Mensh’s shoulder with a feathery limb, and laughed. “I’m sure you’ll get it right, at some point. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, young Mensh.”

  Mensh turned and smiled, and then watched as Amen and Henk stood at the wall, enjoying the outside. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll get it at some point. I think she’s just crazy sometimes, and just tries to make it hard.”

  The owl nodded in agreement, as the Mother walked from his side. “I think that may be a good reason, you can never know. Maela may be a little cranky, but she knows her work.”

  Mensh agreed and stood beside the owl, looking up at the sun. “I agree with you, Hoosun, when it comes to her crankyness, anyway!”

  The owl laughed and shook his head severely, issuing words of warning to the young apprentice. “Don’t let her hear those words from you, young Mensh, or soon you’ll be the one in bed, and under care!”

  The two laughed together, as Amen and Henk took a walk through the fruit trees, where the Mother stood amongst them, feeling sun shafts beaming through the glorious foliage through her veil, and upon her skin.

  Henk went to her side, as Amen went to a tree, and started to refine his climbing skills, after having spent so much time in bed in the past days.

  Henk looked at the Mother, as she bathed in the sun, and saw an outline of the Mother’s face. It was more than she had ever been able to make out from the heavy veil, if even just an outline. Henk had never seen her face before, neither had anyone else at the Order.

  Henk was at the Mother’s side, and felt the sun beating down serenely on her own hand as she stretched it out, and questioned the Mother. “I’ve never seen your face before, Mother. Why is it you never remove your veil? I’ve heard it was because you are scarred. Is this true?”

  The Mother answered the question, turning her face from the sun. “Yes, my face bears many scars. In my years, I have seen many bad things, and experienced
much pain, before I came here. The scars, many of the scars lie upon my face.”

  Henk heard the words, and noted them, taking the ground as a seat. “I won’t bother to ask. I’m sure they’re too horrible to mention, and painful memories at that.”

  The Mother kept her sight ahead, on the walls, and answered softly. “Yes, they are very horrible, indeed…memories.”

  Far away from the Order, the Red Wolf had returned with his young friend, and had made a fire out of cut branches from the forest. He sat with the young one, asking the boy many questions, as he held fruit over the fire on a stick, the moon far above, as the night was at peace.

  “You haven’t told me your name yet, what is it?”

  The boy looked into the fire, and answered. “My name is Haerta, and what’s yours?”

  The charcoal boy looked into the flames, and answered in a beaten manner. “I don’t know, in my thoughts there’s always been a faint whisper of something. I’ve heard it in dreams, from this woman of my people. I don’t know who she is, but she says a name to me, but then I awake, and I can only remember she said a name, but I can’t remember what it was…”

  Haerta felt bad for the charcoal figure, and gestured to take the stick from him, and was handed the hot fruit, and started eating it, as he spoke. “I’m sorry...maybe we can make a name for you?”

  The charcoal figure laughed lightly, and asked more questions of the boy. “Maybe…where do you come from? How did you get out here?”

  The boy munched the blazed fruit, and regaled the reason of his placement in the wilderness.

  “Well, I lived in the village of Huna, with my mother, father, and brother.”

  The charcoal boy was frozen as he heard the name of the town, and listened as the boy continued his tale. “There, we lived awhile, all my life actually, and then one day, something was going on. We never saw what started it, but the town was under attack and was on fire. My family was hurrying me to safety, as I was the youngest, and put me in the wagon. All of the sudden, the stall where we kept our wagon catches fire, and starts caving in. It falls apart, and my family gets killed. I was in the wagon when it happened, but I saw it, and I couldn’t do anything. The horse pulled the wagon from the wreckage, and ran out of town, and last I saw outside the wagon, it was burning into ash. The horse dragged me out here, but he was wounded and died. Anyone else would’ve eaten him, but he served my family well, and I buried him. Now I’m using the wagon remains as my home, until I see a time when it’ll be good to move, but I don’t think anyone will find me. You’re the first one, so far.”