Jorgul turned in alarm and ducked involuntarily as another shaft zipped by and took Reega in the throat.
She fell to her knees, gurgling, pulling at the feathered shaft protruding from underneath her chin.
He saw a shape approaching, running along the path he had made, he saw a flash of steel and watched mesmerised as a dark and feral form flew through the air, its arm outstretched, pointing a long knife at him. He felt nothing until the thing bumped into him with a force incomparable with its size, knocking backwards, leaving him sprawling in the snow.
The creature must have been a werewolf in human form, not as deadly or as fast as the changed one they said, but deadly enough. He didn’t realised how fast and how deadly until the creature pounced upon him and plunged the blade deep into his chest repeatedly in a frenzied attack as he lay there. He stared into venomous eyes as the knife rose and fell, and he recognised his school friend, Yvette. Then the vision slowly dissipated and deafness and darkness came as his lifeblood left him.
Jason watched in silence, he had just seen Jennifer shoot two arrows in quick succession, bringing the furry creature down, and then he saw John, recognisable by his clothing, nearby. Yvette had left his side and moved at an incredibly speed holding her knife before her as she leapt and flew through the air as straight and true as one of Jennifer’s arrows. He saw John fall under the impact and watched as his werewolf sister jumped on him and stabbed him repeatedly.
He made his way with Jennifer and they both stopped as Yvette raised her head and howled. He had a sudden impulse to join in. He could smell blood, goblin blood, his senses told him. He looked around at Jennifer and saw the glint in her eyes, he saw death there too, she had killed a goblin, and, as she said, she had also killed a troll.
As if in conclusion to the goblin’s deaths, it started snowing heavily. The cadavers were covered in seconds. Yvette came to them, she handed Jennifer her two arrows and said, “I’ve cleaned them.”
The manner in which she said it astounded him, here was this delicate creature, half his size, who had downed a transformed goblin and killed him in seconds. She’d handed over the arrows, cut from the cadaver and washed clean in the snow as if she was referring to common cutlery.
Jennifer took them and dropped them into her quiver. “Thanks, that was a neat job; I knew werewolves were fast but…”
She let her voice trail off, the compliment understood as Yvette nodded and looked up at Jason. “I am sorry Jason, we should have shared the kill, but I thought it expedient to dispatch him quickly, I wasn’t sure of your feelings for him.”
He answered in a daze, “John! Yes, John was my friend. He was your friend and Ingrid’s too.” He shrugged and raised his arms. “This is crazy, how did all this start, can’t we live in peace with these creatures?”
Jennifer walked off towards the two snowy mounds and dropped to her knees.
Yvette moved closer to him and touched his cheek with her fingers. “My dear, Jason, dear innocent, Jason, these creatures do not want peace, the elves have warred with them for centuries. They want nothing more than to kill all the elves. If it wasn’t for us the elves would have been slaughtered long ago when the goblins numbered millions. We came to their aid and in gratitude they gave us long life.” She glanced behind her at Jennifer. “The goblins would have the upper hand by possessing the rune stone. It was our duty to retrieve it, the killing of those two was already written, and they knew what would face them if they were caught.”
Jennifer appeared through the snowy curtain, they sensed her despair before they heard her voice, “Chanteline is not there. The stone is gone. That was Reega, but she doesn’t have the stone anymore. Somebody must have taken it.”
Yvette roared, a loud and horrific sound coming from someone so small, then her eyes gleamed yellow and her body swelled out underneath her clothing as she panted.
Jennifer touched her shoulder and said, “Not yet, not yet, the time will come, Swiftfoot, we must find support first.”
Slowly, Yvette’s form ceased to swell and her breath slowed down to normal.
Jason stared at his sister wide-eyed. She looked at him sheepishly and said, “So sorry, I am a little short of my temper as of late. I am the repentant girl now.”
Jason put his arm around her. “You are not alone, Ingrid is my friend too.” He turned to Jennifer. “Maybe this female goblin wasn’t alone and the stone is now with the enemy.”
Jennifer said as she shouldered her bow, “We must journey farther North, there should be a werewolf enclave in the mountains somewhere, not too high up and they will help us.”
Lucas knew he was being followed, he knew also that she was one of his kind; a female of course, as they always sent females to spy out the enemy. He couldn’t dispose of her though, if he managed to kill her they would send more, which would complicate things. He had to disappear, without her finding out she had been discovered.
His hand touched the satchel slung over his head and shoulder, he had what he came for. He thought of all the planning down to the last detail, with Jorgul, Yvette and Jason, pawns in his hands, but luck had smiled on him and now he could proceed without worrying about the rest of his plan, which was reliant on other beings and unreliable factors.
He thought of the two goblins, Reega and poor stupid Jorgul, he had promised him he would make them king and queen of all the elves. He thought Jorgul’s renegade sister Raylin and her people who wished for peace with the elves and werewolves. He knew of the ancient oracle- Neither elf, nor werewolf, can bring silence to the forest. Which in fact pointed to something else, Not elf, not werewolf, - but a combination of both”, was the answer to this riddle, but he had put an end to that.
No, there could never be peace, peace was for fools. He laughed to himself at the memory, he gloated over his ingenuity. It was he who had successfully spread a rumour amongst the elves and his own people, stating that elven blood was poisonous to a werewolf, saying he had seen it happen with his own eyes.
This “myth” was almost proven false when Lengowyn, now a leader of the local werewolf tribe, who found, when he was a youth, a wounded elf one day in the forest and had foolishly “contaminated” himself with its blood. He told his people of this amazing occurrence and he, Lucas, had convinced him it had been an elven ‘Halfling’, part elf, part human whose blood had been diluted in the process and was not harmful.
The last thing he wanted was some werewolf-elf creature spoiling his plans. He came to a stop and looked up at the ridge of rocks towering above him, his cave lay on the lee side of it, easily accessible from below, but he had to shake off his pursuer before he returned there. He reached up and started to climb, the rocks were slippery with ice and the wind buffeted him from the right and would do so for the whole climb. He toiled on upwards and paused only when he reached the top. He glanced below and saw a shape scurry towards the bottom of the ridge. He smiled and continued, balancing precariously on the narrow ridge.
His journey continued upwards as the ridge rose slightly. As it reached a peak it descended once more. Lucas squatted down and peered over the top of the ridge peak. He waited. There she was, yes, he was right, a female. He could make her out through the snow that flew across the ridge and fell gently on the lee side. He moved out of sight and continued downwards.
The ridge rose once more and after he reached the top he made haste downwards. As he reached a certain spot, recognisable by an out-jutting piece of stone, he turned with his back to the wind and stepped off the ridge. This was no desperate attempt to lose his pursuer. He had practiced this in broad daylight, during the absence of snowfall. He knew exactly how far this first step must be, too short and his body would shatter on the rocky surface, too far and he would miss the deep snow that now rushed up the meet him and land in the valley.
He hit the surface cleanly, feet first and plunged into the soft snow. He tensed his stomach muscles as he travelled deeper and lifted with his feet, curving his body. This action bro
ught him nearer to the surface and as it did so he dropped his arms, which until now, he had held above his head. Out of pure instinct, and of course practice, he knew exactly where he was as his body came to a halt and he trampled the snow beneath him and moved forward with a swimming motion.
His human form changed quickly to a huge snarling, growling werewolf that burst forth from the snowy bank. With the satchel containing the rune stone held securely between his huge jaws, he sniffed the air, turned and bounded diagonally up the slope and entered an opening in the rock face. He trotted into his lair and slowly resumed human form.
He searched amongst his belongings and dressed himself in dry clothing, then he opened the satchel and took out the stone. He held it in his hands and he gasped as it glowed suddenly, first bright blue and then a deep red. Something gripped his heart, he found breathing difficult and felt tired. Then he heard a distant laughter, not from outside the cave, but from inside his head. As the laughter faded so did his strength. Hunger, you are hungry, that’s why you are tired. He rummaged through his supplies and found the roast chicken he had purloined. He devoured it within minutes and sat back, sated.
Chapter twelve.
Lengowyn.
They struggled against the howling wind as they forced their way through the thigh-deep snow. Jennifer, walking across the snow’s surface, carried their half-empty packs. The food from the shepherd’s wife, mutton, coarse wholemeal bread and cheese was long gone and they ate snow to quench their thirst.
Yvette, walking behind Jason called out, “They are close.”
Jason breathed deep, taking in the heavy scent, borne on the oncoming wind, the scent was strong. It was Yvette’s scent, a hundred-fold.
They came to the top of the next rise and gazed down at the valley below. They descended and as they came into the lee of the mountain towering before them, the snow fell like a soft blanket. They journeyed on and several houses appeared, houses of stone, not small stones, but large ones, as big as ones head, and slanted roofs now covered in snow.
Light peeped through the louvered window coverings. Smoke drifted upwards in the still air. Suddenly the snow ceased its descent. They removed their masks and goggles and found themselves facing an approaching multitude of men, women and children. That they were werewolves was apparent, not by their appearance but by their scent. The crowd stopped and a figure stepped forward, he pointed at Jennifer. “What does an elf seek here?”
Jason stepped between them, and Yvette came to his side, the man stopped and Jason said, “She is with us.”
“You were not asked.”
Jennifer spoke up, “The goblins have Chanteline,” and stepped out from behind them, “And we came here for help.”
The man looked her up and down. “Elves and friends of elves have no business here, if you need food, say so and be gone.” He turned briefly to a woman standing close behind him, he murmured something and she hurried off.
Jennifer stepped in front of Jason and Yvette. “Do you fear the elves?” She asked him.
“We fear no-one, neither man nor beast nor elf.”
“What about goblins?”
“They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them.”
Jennifer shook her head slowly, “Such complacency. Are you sure you are safe? I hear goblins are close by. We have just slain two of them.”
His brow creased and his lips curled. “You killed goblins, here, do you know how many there are here in the hills and mountains. Why did you kill them and where are they?”
“A few hours from here, you see, one of them stole the rune stone. You remember the rune stone, don’t you? The thing that gives you immortality, well, when the goblins find they cannot use it for the same purpose, they will destroy it, and you and the elves and anybody blessed by Chanteline will die.”
“Is that what you believe? Who are you anyway?”
She cut him short, and joined her hands as she spoke, “My name is Lavendel, my parents were keepers of the rune stone, and they have sent me to ask for your help, you came to our aid long ago and were rewarded with long-life.”
The man looked them over and said, “My name is Lengowyn, I am the community’s leader. I am sorry you have lost your precious rune stone, but we don’t believe in that mumbo-jumbo. We werewolves always had longevity, it is in our genes, that is nothing but a lie thought up by the elves to keep the werewolves subservient, something we are not. Yes, we helped the elves when they were outnumbered, but we did it to protect ourselves. You elves are always causing trouble with the goblins. Why can’t you leave them to live in peace, they wish you no harm, you elves fear them out of ignorance.”
Jennifer looked at the throng behind him, “I never thought I would hear a werewolf turn his back on us. Are you afraid to fight, afraid of hurting yourself?”
A loud murmur changing to snarls and growls rose from the crowd, Lengowyn raised his hand and the noise abated. “Our people fought against oppression in the human wars, we fought and died alongside humans. I didn’t see any elves in the trenches or on the beaches, only dead humans and decapitated werepeople.”
“I don’t know anything about the human wars, I am young, I am seventeen, I don’t even have a mate,” she said, staring at him fiercely.
He glared at her, “You lie, like all elves, you lie.” He pointed a finger at Jason, “I see your mark upon him. Now that would be interesting, the offspring of a werewolf and an elf.”
Jennifer’s gaze dropped and she turned to Jason, she took him by the arm and pulled him to her. “Forgive me, Lengowyn, I did not intend to deceive you. Silvermoon and I met some time ago, neither one of us knew of the curse. We know we can never be as one, if he touches one drop of…” Her voice trailed off and she added, “Well, you know the rest.”
Lengowyn’s head tilted back and he literally roared with laughter, the crowd behind him joined in. As the noise died down he looked back at them. “Be on your way.”
The woman who left the throng came back with three small sacks, she gave them Lengowyn and he approached the trio. “Here, food for your journey home, and stay away from the goblins.”
Jennifer took the proffered sack. “Thank you, your generosity is appreciated.”
A voice came from the crowd, “More than the elves gave us.”
She looked at the crowd and then back at Lengowyn. “What is that supposed to mean?”
His smile changed to a sneer, “What is your father’s trade, goldsmith, or something else, such as bow maker?”
“He, er, he’s a banker.”
His eyebrows rose, but his eyes mocked. “That doesn’t surprise me. Doing well is he, do the humans know he’s an elf, does he pay them to keep quiet?”
“My father donates to charity, he is well thought of, his interest rates are more than reasonable and he has never foreclosed on anyone.”
“The elves came off best, they always did. We were left to farm the land, millers, blacksmiths, weavers and tailors, no riches for us, the elves kept the goblin gold for themselves,” he paused for breath; he raised his arms and said aloud, “We are self-sufficient here, no thanks to the elves.” He turned and looked at the angry faces behind him, and then he turned back to the trio, his voice soft and calm, “Leave now, and don’t come back.”
With that, he walked away and the crowd dispersed leaving them alone on the hard-packed snow, in the silence.
Yvette sobbed quietly, Jason placed an arm around her shoulder, and Jennifer joined them, her eyes glistening. “We must leave, we have angered them, let us make camp somewhere, I am tired and you are too.”
They travelled along the base of the mountain and found shelter beneath an overhang, a good hour’s journey from the werewolf town. Sheltered from the wind and snow they ate the food in silence, after which they erected one of their tents, and retired in silence and fell asleep huddled together, more saddened than tired.
Way above on the ridge, far from the cave entrance, a young female werewolf, sent to follo
w Lucas, loped back and forth along the top of the ridge, sniffing loudly. In the waning darkness, she searched the ridge in vain for signs of his presence. His trail, what there was of it on these bare rocks, had petered out in the night. She had travelled along the whole ridge only to find that it descended once more to the valley from which it grew. What was his purpose, why this pile of useless rock? Did he ascend, or did my eyes deceive me, did I pass him in the dark as he lay hidden somewhere. He could have killed me easily; one quick shove and I would have landed on the rocks below, my body shattered and broken.” She looked down the windward side at the stone fangs that pointed back up at her. She shivered, but not because of the icy wind and made her way back the same way she came.
Lucas woke up, still tired. Daylight streamed into the cave blinding him. He gathered his things and made his way to the cave entrance. He looked out at the snow-covered hills, and descended to the valley below, stumbling now and then.
Silvermoon. A Tale of a Young Werewolf. A YA Novel. 12-18 Page 10