Howler King

by J. Lloyd Morgan

  HOWLER KING

  J. Lloyd Morgan

  Front cover design by

  Kelley Morgan

  Introduction

  Howler King is a short story I wrote some time ago that has been begging to be set free. People who have read it suggested I flush it out to a full novel, which I may do one day. Aside from my novels The Hidden Sun and The Waxing Moon, I have several other projects in the works which have demanded my attention. To keep Howler King happy, I granted its wish and set it loose.

  Copyright 2012 J. Lloyd Morgan LLC

  For the latest news about my other works, please visit www.jlloydmorgan.com

  Pronunciation guide

  Crysta: Cry-stah

  Eladrel: El-ah-drell

  Knichka: Nick-kah

  Pendr: Pen-der

  Vimea: Vee-me-ah

  Zyrr: Zz-ear

  Zyrr looked over his shoulder at the oncoming storm. With any luck, he and his wife, Crysta, would arrive before the rain started to fall. Zyrr didn’t like traveling. Aside from the potential dangers, the bumpy roads jarred his horse-drawn cart so much that by the end of a day he was sore from head to toe. Crysta, to her credit, never complained—it wasn’t her way. Yes, she would ask and remind nicely, and persistently, until she got what she wanted. But complain? No.

  The trees that lined both sides of the dirt road were thick enough to hide anyone watching them or lying in wait. Keeping a constant eye on their surroundings was draining Zyrr—though he tried not to let his anxiousness show.

  Crysta’s sister, Vimea, and her husband, Pendr, lived in Knichka, a town of several thousand people. Pendr was the blacksmith there and from what communication they had received over the years, had done well.

  “It’ll be good to visit family,” Zyrr said. He tried to sound carefree. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your sister?”

  Crysta looked thoughtful for a moment. “Seven winters.”

  “I’m sorry we’ve not been able to visit them sooner.” Zyrr continued to scan the area around them as they traveled.

  Crysta patted his hand. “I don’t blame you, husband. You’re simply trying to keep me safe. People say the Howler King was defeated, but there are still peculiar things going on.”

  Zyrr had heard of such happenings, but they were usually spoken in hushed tones. Many of the accounts were so gruesome he didn’t repeat them to his wife, though apparently she had heard them none-the-less.

  “Let’s talk of happier things,” Zyrr said. “Tell me what you’ve heard about our nephew.”

  Before his wife could answer, thunder rumbled menacingly. It was louder and closer than before. Even though it would strain the horses and bounce him around more, Zyrr picked up the pace.

  * * *

  The town of Knichka was impressive. Unlike in the villages they had passed on the way, these houses were not wood cabins with thatched roofs. No, the buildings here were made from brick, rock, and adobe, with proper slate roofs. For a moment, Zyrr entertained the idea of selling his farm and moving to Knichka. It felt much safer here. But the farm had been owned by his family for generations. He couldn’t leave it.

  Crysta was all but bursting with excitement. “Hello, my good man!” she called to the first person she saw when they entered the town. He was getting on in years, as indicated by his hunched shoulders and graying hair. “Can you direct us to the blacksmith’s house?”

  He looked at them warily, and appeared to size them up before answering. He gave a curt nod and pointed a gnarled finger toward a white-washed dwelling with a blue slate roof about seven or eight houses down.

  “Thank you, kind sir!” Crysta sang out. Zyrr had not seen his wife this happy in quite some time. And why shouldn’t she be? They had lived under the fear of constant attack for years. Though he didn’t feel safe while traveling, she had finally convinced him to make this trip.

  The cart was still two houses away when Crysta jumped to the ground and started running. Vimea had stepped out the front door, and within no time, the two sisters were embracing, shedding tears of joy. They chatted so quickly Zyrr wondered if they could even understand what they were saying to each other. He looked at them more closely as they talked. Where Crysta was dark-haired, Vimea’s hair was much lighter. Aside from that, the two could pass for twins.

  Zyrr pulled the cart up to the front of the house and saw Pendr for the first time. Vimea’s husband had to be the largest man he had ever seen in his life. Zyrr was no weakling—years of working the land and raising animals had earned him a muscular build. But compared to Pendr, he looked like a child. The blacksmith was at least a head taller, and twice as thick. His arms were as big as Zyrr’s legs, and the term “barrel-chested” was not an exaggeration on this man.

  “Well met, Pendr.” Zyrr held up a hand in greeting.

  A big grin split the man’s face. “You must be Zyrr. Come on down from there. I’m sure you’re weary from traveling. I’ll take care of your cart and horses.”

  The smile surprised Zyrr—but in a good way. His first impression was that Pendr was a man who could kill him with his bare hands without even trying. But his greeting showed a gentler side.

  “Of course.” Zyrr jumped out of the cart and approached Pendr, putting his hand out in an offer of friendship. Pendr was quick to accept it. The blacksmith’s hand completely engulfed Zyrr’s.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Pendr said, his deep voice a perfect match for his physique. “Please, go inside and relax. Vimea’s made an extra-special supper tonight.”

  * * *

  “Eladrel,” the young boy said by way of introduction.

  Zyrr knelt to his level. “I’m your Uncle Zyrr. How old are you, Eladrel?”

  Beaming, Eladrel thumped his chest. “I’ve seen five winters.”

  “Five winters?” Zyrr stood and then whistled in awe. “My goodness, you’re certainly becoming a man quickly, aren’t you?”

  Eladrel nodded. “Papa lets me help at the forge. I’m going to be as big and strong as him someday.”

  “You’re on your way, by the looks of you.”

  Seeing the young man before him gave Zyrr a pang of sadness. He had wanted children of his own, but Crysta was adamant that she wouldn’t bring a baby into such a hostile world. Even though it had been six years since the Howler King was reportedly defeated, Crysta hadn’t changed her mind. Maybe the trip here—and seeing her nephew—would get her to reconsider.

  Vimea called from the other room. “You can come in for supper. It’s nearly ready.”

  Zyrr heard his wife and her sister chatting in the other room while the last of the meal was being prepared. “What do you say, Eladrel? Can you show me where we need to go?”

  “You bet!” Eladrel said. He reached up and took Zyrr’s hand.

  His nephew took him down a hallway and into a large room with a round table and five chairs. The utensils appeared to be made from silver, while the goblets sparkled like crystal. Zyrr was sure that it was only how they appeared, as no one could afford such luxuries. The taxes had been so heavy during the Howler wars, people were just now able to afford little niceties—nothing like what the items on the table appeared to be.

  “This is your seat,” Eladrel said, bringing Zyrr to a chair of fine workmanship.

  Zyrr pulled it away from the table. “Thank you, nephew.”

  A sound from the back of the house of a door opening and closing caused Eladrel to run off, supposedly to greet his father. Zyrr heard Vimea tell her husband to wash up before he came to the table—she wouldn’t have him all sooty for their guests.

  Zyrr looked around the room and felt a twinge of envy. He had never been able to afford such nice furnishings for his wife. It seemed that being a blacksmith h
ad its rewards.

  Vimea entered the room holding a plate of some type of cut-up meat. “Please, sit.” Crysta followed her, bringing in a large bowl of mashed potatoes. Zyrr’s mouth started to water—they hadn’t eaten very well on the trip, and the food smelled delicious. Within a few moments, they were all seated at the table, and after a prayer of thanks, started the meal.

  “I’ve been dying to know. How did the two of you meet?” Crysta asked after the food had been dished up.

  Vimea grinned. “It wasn’t long after the heroes defeated the Howler King. Pendr was a soldier in the army, and with the threat over, he was released from his duty.”

  “My hometown was destroyed in the war, so I was looking for a place to settle down,” Pendr interjected.

  Vimea had a dreamy look in her eyes. “I still remember him riding into town. He was by far the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Mother and Father, rest their souls, were leery of him courting me. This was a full season after you two had married and moved away. I believe they weren’t ready to give up their other daughter so quickly.”

  Pendr swallowed a bite of meat. “I think I frightened your parents. They knew I’d fought in the war, but I wanted to put all that behind me and live a simpler life. It took some doing, but I convinced them.”

  “Did you get to meet any of the heroes?” Crysta asked.

  The large blacksmith smiled a bit at the question. Zyrr guessed he was asked this often. “Yes. In fact, our son was named after the priest.”

  “I thought his name sounded familiar,” Zyrr said. “We only heard rumors of their names. The six of them were just called ‘the heroes’ most of the time.”

  Crysta’s eyes widened. “Did you see them perform any magic?”

  “Yes—quite often. Without magic, I doubt the Howler King would’ve been vanquished,” Pendr said.

  “I can do a magic trick!” Eladrel said.

  Vimea laughed playfully. “Oh, really? And will you show us?”

  “I’m not sure—” Pendr started to say.

  His wife cut him off. “Oh, let the boy have some fun. So, what are you going to show us?”

  Vimea’s encouragement surprised Zyrr. Using true magic was considered taboo these days, though Zyrr wasn’t sure why. However, that hadn’t stopped the children in his part of the land from pretending to use magic when they were playing. He guessed Vimea saw Eladrel’s claim as a harmless child’s game.

  His nephew picked up his fork and set it on the table before him. “I’m gonna move the fork without touching it.”

  Zyrr leaned in. He wondered how the boy was going to do that. Perhaps he would kick the table from underneath, or pull on the tablecloth. Regardless, it should be cute.

  The boy closed his eyes and brought his right hand forward so the palm was facing away from him. The serious look on his face made Zyrr smile. This boy could be quite the showman one day.

  Zyrr felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle. Then suddenly, the fork shot forward, between Zyrr and Crysta, and stuck solidly into the wall behind them.

  “Oops,” Eladrel said. “I didn’t mean to push it that hard.”

  Zyrr noticed he wasn’t the only one at the table who was shocked. Vimea and Crysta looked stunned as well, though Pendr didn’t.

  “Eladrel…” Vimea said quietly. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I, well, just felt like I could do it.”

  Zyrr looked carefully at Pendr. The large man’s brow was furrowed—and why not? Magic was only passed down from parent to child. His wife didn’t have the ability and he doubted her sister did either.

  Crysta asked, “Pendr, did you know he could do that?” Zyrr cringed at her question, but his wife had a way of speaking her mind.

  Pendr looked from his son, to his wife, and then back to Crysta. “No. I didn’t know.”

  Before Zyrr could say anything to keep his wife from making the situation more uncomfortable, Crysta said to Pendr, “The only way he can do magic is if you can do magic. Isn’t that right?”

  The blacksmith seemed troubled. Instead of answering Crysta, he turned to his wife and said, “There’s a lot I left behind after the war. I didn’t tell you, well, because I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  Vimea’s face turned ghostly white. “Have you used magic since we’ve been married?”

  “It’s not that simple, you see I—” Pendr started to say.

  Vimea interrupted him. “‘Yes’ or ‘no’ seems pretty simple to me.”

  “Perhaps this is something we should discuss in private,” Pendr said gently.

  Zyrr couldn’t agree more. This was none of his concern. It frightened him to even talk about magic. It was through the abuse of magic that the Howler King had been able to create his army of intelligent wolves—wolves that could talk to each other and plan attacks. Now that he thought about it, using real magic was probably taboo for fear that someone would learn the Howler King’s secrets and bring forth another army.

  “Please, we don’t wish to intrude,” Zyrr said. “We can look around the town and give you some privacy.”

  Vimea pointed to the window. “You’re going to go out in that?”

  Zyrr noticed the storm had arrived and a heavy downpour was in full force. Vimea was right—that was not an option.

  “Do you have another room where we could wait while you talk?” Zyrr offered.

  “Well, husband?” Vimea asked in a tone Crysta used time and again. When Crysta got into that same mood, there was no arguing with her.

  Pendr motioned to his son. “You are upsetting Eladrel.”

  Eladrel had fallen silent. He seemed to realize that he had brought this on. He was tearing up, and his lower lip was quivering.

  “We’ll take him in the other room with us,” Zyrr offered.

  “We’re family. Pendr, I won’t have you holding back information from them.” Vimea wouldn’t budge. It seemed be another trait she shared with her sister.

  “Very well,” Pendr said, sounding defeated. “Yes, I’ve used magic since we’ve been married.”

  His wife brought her hand to her chest in an act of disbelief. “What did you do?”

  Pendr raised his hands off the table. “I did nothing but set up protective wards around our house, the town, and region. I’ve done nothing to enhance my blacksmithing or to bully people.”

  “What do you mean by ‘wards’?” Crysta asked.

  “They are spells that act as sentinels of a sort. The wards around the region are like a warning system. If anyone actively uses magic within the area, I’ll know it. The ones around the town will let me know if a magic-user or being enters. They don’t even have to be casting—just if they have the power. And the wards in the house are the most powerful—especially in the front sitting room. They prevent the entry of any magical beings intent on doing harm.”

  Vimea looked around her house, as if trying to see these wards. “And you did this without my permission?”

  Pendr sighed. “I saw and experienced many terrible things in the war. I wanted to leave all that behind to live a normal life. At the same time, my desire to protect my family brought me to casting the wards. I didn’t tell you for fear you wouldn’t understand, or worse, fear me. My whole adult life, people have been afraid of me—until I came here. That’s one of the main reasons I fell in love with you. You saw me for me.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Vimea responded after a pause. “Did you know that Eladrel would have the gift?”

  He looked at his son, who was still fighting back tears. “I hoped he wouldn’t. Usually, magic doesn’t manifest itself until a child has seen at least eight winters. It’s unusual for someone to show it so early. My wards didn’t detect him until just now.”

  Zyrr wasn’t sure if that statement scared or excited Eladrel, but either way, it changed the boy’s countenance. He had stopped crying and was focused on what his parents were sayin
g.

  For a drawn-out moment, no one spoke. All that could be heard was the sound of the storm getting worse—the wind was picking up and the rain pounded harder on the roof.

  Vimea turned to Zyrr and Crysta. “After dinner, we’ll show you to your room. I can’t let you leave in a storm like this, but after it clears, I’ll understand if you want to go.”

  Crysta looked straight into her sister’s eyes. “Oh, no, you don’t. We didn’t travel for a week just to leave again. Personally, I don’t see why you are so upset. All Pendr has done was try to be a good husband and father.”

  “Dear…” Zyrr began, but she shut him up with a glare.

  “We want to stay. I understand you have some things to work out with your husband, but let us help.”

  Pendr didn’t say anything. Neither did Eladrel. It was Vimea that finally broke the silence. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Three days had gone by. At first, Zyrr was very uncomfortable. Even though Vimea raised her voice time and again at her husband, he was nothing but gentle and forgiving. There was an obvious strain on Pendr and Vimea’s relationship, but by the second day, things seemed to improve. And now, they were talking without Vimea becoming upset.

  Pendr and Vimea finally decided that Eladrel wouldn’t be allowed to use magic. Pendr seemed particularly adamant about this point. Once that was settled, Pendr returned to the forge and invited Zyrr to come along.

  “So, what type of things do you make?” Zyrr asked.

  Pendr was still putting on his thick, leather apron when he responded. “Mainly items for people’s houses. I also make and repair horseshoes. I’ve had requests for weapons, but I turn them down. I’ve seen enough swords to last me a lifetime.”

  “Were you close to the final battle when the Howler King was defeated?” Zyrr asked.

  Pendr gave a little smile. “Yeah, pretty close.”

  “And have you heard the stories of Howlers still existing?”