Scion of Two Pantheons

by Ted Striker

  {Fenrir was her father. It is his essence that confers the Beast. The Morrigán is my half-sister. Can you imagine the destruction and suffering a Wolf-god might cause? I was barely able to stop her after she had been a Wolf for three hundred years, and I was forced to imprison her for the next two hundred years until I managed to help her come back to herself. Even now she holds it against me.} Mebd managed to convey a heavy sigh. {Having witnessed it once, I had no desire to be a ride-along on another bloody three-hundred year killing spree.}

  {I am sorry for the pain that my failure caused,} said Perkunas. {Truly, I wish we had used three times the number of warriors to chain Fenrir. It was my hubris that allowed him to go free.}

  {No blame attaches to you, dear Perkunas,} replied Mebd. {The Morrigán terrorized the world for many human lifetimes. Fenrir must have been more powerful than even she, as he was the father of Wolves. Be grateful that we did not have to witness its like once more.} A twinkle entered her tone. {I retract all my misgivings about this Laignach, my son. She has been a true friend to you, and without her help, all would be lost.}

  Bryan snorted in agreement. Looking around, he saw that the kitchen had filled with twenty or more Laignach warriors, all armed, all tensely awaiting the order to fall upon him. He was sitting in the middle of this sharp-edged circle, Branna next to him in Wolf form. At his movement, she looked at him much the way she had that day at the stream. He winked at her. *So this is Wolf life, eh?* he said. *Is it always so boring?*

  Branna nuzzled him. *Idiot. Let me help you Change back. It’s not so painful as the First Change. You will be able to control everything better.*

  *Please show me how,* he sent out politely. His mind was flooded with the knowledge of her reply, and as he saw the method and experienced the feelings of Branna’s Change, he saw the wolf melt away to reveal the lissome human body he had explored only hours before.

  Then it was his turn. He envisioned the Change, just as Branna had showed him, and it happened. Suddenly he was sitting cross-legged on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor without a stitch on his body. The men around him grinned and cheered. Those women warriors present craned in for a better look at him before joining in the celebration. Aodhan threw Bryan’s clothes to him. “Got these off you before you could tear them up,” he said merrily. “Better put them on again before some of these lasses decide to take advantage of you!”

  Branna made a face at Aodhan and the suddenly giggling women. She waited impatiently while Bryan got his breeches on again and pulled his shirt over his head. Then she took him by the arm and dragged him into a small storeroom. “Now tell me,” she demanded, “All about those beings inside you.”

  Bryan took a quick poll inside his head.

  {The milk is spilt,} quipped Mebd.

  {Indeed,} said Perkunas. {I suppose you should give the Wyrg our thanks while you’re at it.}

  So Bryan gave Branna the short version. “Who else knows? Did I just tell all the Wolves in the region about my, ah, guests?”

  “No, your secret is still yours, and you can trust me to keep it, as well,” said Branna. “But how is it that you could Change? Only one born to the Beast can become one of us. I take it that this is not your case.

  “I Changed because of the Sword,” he answered. “When I used it to kill Phelan, it transferred his Beast to me along with the rest of his essence.”

  “And when Connla attacked you, it triggered the Change. It is a miracle that you could hear me through your Beast, you know. We Laignach are trained from childhood in how to school our thoughts and emotions so that the Beast never gets a chance to rule us, first with stories, then, when the Change is imminent, by a Guide who Bonds with us beforehand and helps us through the first few transitions. That is what I did with you, but you have gotten none of the training even a child of ten will have had, and we were never Bonded.”

  “Really?” Bryan raised an eyebrow.

  Branna slapped him playfully on the forehead “Really, you horny arse. Bonding requires a foundation of trust and friendship that is usually cultivated over years. My Guide was my mother’s sister. An untrained person whose First Change came as late as yours should never have been able to return from the grip of the Beast, even with guidance; now, at least, I know why you could. If the Defender and the Goddess are both with you, no wonder the Beast could have no sway upon you.”

  Bryan nodded and tried to look inscrutable. It was difficult with both Deities laughing in manic, uproarious relief inside his head. “Will I have this battle with the Beast every time I Change?” he asked.

  “No. The First Change is the crucial one, where the surprise, shock and pain of the Change makes one weak enough so that the needs and desires of the Beast are most powerful. Now, when you transform, there will be little or no pain and you will simply be yourself in Wolf form. The more often you Change, the easier it will become so that eventually Changing your shape will be like putting on a different suit of clothes. Easier than that, if you’re already naked.”

  “So how do I learn to communicate privately when I’m a Wolf?”

  “Well,” said Branna with a sly smile, “When we return to my chambers tonight, I’ll teach you.”

  “You will, will you,” he answered. “Is it time consuming?”

  “That depends,” she said, planting a kiss on his lips, “on the number of distractions.”

  Bryan had the feeling that there would be plenty of distractions.

  Chapter 23

  Aodhan and Neit were sparring in the fenced yard of the Council House the next morning when Bryan joined them. They were using their battle swords; live, sharp steel, and from what Bryan could see, they weren’t holding back even though they joked and laughed as they fought. He watched for a while as they danced up and down and around the courtyard, fairly matched.

  Seeing the brothers work up a sweat reminded Bryan that he hadn’t been able to work out since he had been shanghaied from the Other Side. It was high time he got back into some kind of daily discipline. With a deep cleansing breath, he relaxed into a horse stance, his arms describing great circles as he began the stately slow dance of Tai Chi.

  Grasp The Sparrow’s Tail.

  Almost immediately, Bryan’s body began to hum with electricity. Force channeled into it from the world around him as he slowly and precisely executed the very carefully aligned poses he had learned so painstakingly over the years. He had felt the power of his chi filling with energy before, but never quite like this, certainly never within scant minutes of beginning his initial breathing and moves. The power was almost as substantial as what he’d felt when the Soul Sword had broken Afixio’s barrier. He stopped, holding his pose. The energy paused with him, simply there, a warming cocoon of power. Bryan considered the feeling, sent a mental query to his Guests.

  {Energy flows more readily here, my son,} Perkunas’ mental baritone resonated inside Bryan’s head like a trombone’s song.

  Bryan knew that Tai Chi focused energy, knew that the fundamental energy of all of life flowed throughout the world. He knew that a properly aligned body doing the correct forms would direct that flow into one’s chi. He had learned, after years of practice, to attract and move that energy to some extent. He had used it to strengthen himself, to heal himself, to find a little inner peace. He had never felt the energy fill him the way it did now. He resisted the sudden temptation to leap across the square and continued with his flowing exercises.

  {In your world, it is difficult to gain power even when you align your chi to accept the flow of the universe and move with it rather than against it.} continued Perkunas.

  White Crane Spreads its Wings.

  { That is why only the great masters of tai chi seem to perform miraculous feats Over There.}

  Needle At Sea Bottom.

  {Here, you will find that your skill yields a greater result with less effort.}

  Fan Through The Back.

  Bryan incorporated the music of Perkunas’ lecture into his
meditation, feeling the simple truth of the words as they joined the light that was now pulsing through him with every heartbeat.

  Cloud Hands.

  He began to flow in powerful circles, moving faster and faster, his hands executing complex spins and intimidating thrusts as he reveled in the incredible new power he was creating with his dance.

  Strike Tiger, Right Side.

  Strike Tiger, Left Side.

  Kick with Right Sole.

  Strike Opponent’s Ears with Fists.

  Kick with left Sole. Step, Block, Parry, Punch!

  Bryan felt the pulse of force leave his punching fist, focused his eyes just in time to see it strike the fence in front of the stables thirty yards away. The fence shattered with a crack! like a giant bat hitting a ball shot from a bazooka. Splinters shot up and away in a great cloud of pulverized wood.

  “Damn,” said Bryan reverently. He thought he understood what had happened. Instead of controlling the force he had gathered with his slow, measured movements and breathing, he had allowed it to drive him, faster and faster, in the sheer joy of riding so much energy. His final speedy punch had let the accumulated energy escape as well as guiding the direction of the force. If an opponent had been in the path of the punch, he would have suffered much the same fate as the fence. Thank goodness there hadn’t been any animals over there!

  The hostler came out of the stables to look at the ruin that had been his fenced corral. Bryan turned quickly away, saw that the brothers were watching him.

  “A fine gift,” said Aodhan, “Not only a warrior and a wolf, our new brother is a wizard!” His teeth gleamed white in the middle of his flaming red beard. “Impressive!”

  “Right,” said Bryan, embarrassed. “I didn’t know that would happen. It’s never happened before.”

  “Idiot savant,” said Neit. “Still impressive; perhaps even more so.”

  “I should pay to have that repaired,” said Bryan. The hostler was looking at the three suspiciously. He didn’t have a clue as to what had just happened, but these three were the only others around.

  “No doubt,” replied Neit. “Although, to be quite fair, that fence has been in disrepair for years. I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen down before now.”

  “Even so,” suggested Aodhan, “perhaps we should adjourn to the Golden Corn.”

  “I could buy breakfast,” said Bryan. “In fact, I actually sought you out because I wanted to ask you more about Wolf life,”

  “For the Champion of the Clan, anything!” responded Aodhan.

  “Especially when he buys us ale or food,” added Neit.

  “Or both,” said Aodhan.

  Bryan followed them over to the tavern. “It strikes me that one might travel much more swiftly as a Wolf than a human,” he said as they entered, finally escaping the accusing stares of the hostler.

  “Aha!” said Neit. “The boy is a thinker! Yes, that is one advantage of the Wolf.” He called for food and ale while he waited for Bryan to continue.

  “But to carry a burden –”

  “—Like armor and weapons, for example,” cut in Aodhan. “You think about much more serious things than I did just after my First Change.”

  Laughing, Neit said, “Aodhan wanted to know if he could Change whenever he needed to take a shit, so he wouldn’t have to clean himself.” A pleasant-looking girl of about fourteen brought platters of olives, fruits, and bread, and a boy a few years younger carried a tray bearing three cups and a large foaming pitcher filled with golden liquid. “Mead,” he informed them. “First of the season. Or, if you prefer, I could bring last season’s brew.”

  “This year’s will be more refreshing,” said Aodhan. “Last year’s will be less sweet, with more of a kick. Neit, you spent your time wondering how it felt to mount a female Wolf!”Aodhan took a long pull at his mead and turned to Bryan. “Back to your serious inquiry,” he said. “A pack was devised, much like saddlebags, only larger, since wolves rarely carry humans on their backs. It holds a lot of gear and slows the running only a bit. You load it up and put it on in human form, Change into wolf form, and reverse the process at your destination. Easy.”

  “Of course, you have to be careful to set the straps loosely while you’re Human, or you’ll choke yourself half to death when you turn Wolf.” Neit finished his ale. “By the way, brother,” he commented to Bryan, “humping is better as a human. Wolf rods tend to knot up after the act; you have to wait around forever before you can go about your other business.” He cocked a bushy red eyebrow at Bryan. “But that’s not truly what you want to know, is it?. Ha! I bet I can guess! Two more flagons of this excellent mead if I do!”

  “Done!” said Bryan, laughing.

  Aodhan lifted his chin, beard bristling. “Wait!” he cautioned his brother. “Ye’ll be sharing one of those with me if I hit the mark!” He leaned over and whispered in Neit’s ear.

  Neit drew himself up into an officious pose, pointed an accusing finger at Aodhan and said, “You’ve turned feral, my lad and have been out slaughtering the cattle again! It’s the chopping block for you!”

  In a meek, cowed voice, Aodhan answered, “But, Milord, the whole affair wasn’t even my fault! It was that pesky full moon that forced me to Change! I couldna help myself!”

  They stopped the impromptu theater and looked expectantly at Bryan, who burst into laughter, so comically had they presented the whole thing. “Oh, by all means, drink up!” he gasped. He pulled a gold coin from his pouch. “Not only did you hit the mark, you obliterated it with that performance!”

  “Such an act may have worked once, or even twice,” said Aodhan. “But usually it ends with the local Lord saying, ‘Lad, ye’re simply too dangerous to let live. Off with your head!’”

  Neit signaled for another round. He said, “That old tale about the curse of the full moon is told among Men from the far north to the Deep Blue Sea. I think, myself, that the tale originated from one of those poor Wolves who lost their wits in the First Change. Went Wolf and never returned, and then terrorized the surrounding villages until the Changeling was destroyed.”

  “Like I almost did,” said Bryan.

  “No,” said Aodhan. “Well, I suppose that it’s true, we never expected you to come back to yourself. A miracle, it was. Branna saved you and saved us all, that’s for sure.”

  “And you would have killed me if she hadn’t been able to bring me back.”

  “A Laignach who is ruled by his Beast is a terrible thing,” said Neit. “Death is the only thing that will keep him from laying waste an entire countryside like a one-Wolf plague.”

  “It is a rare thing for a Wolf to be lost to the Beast, but it’s been known to happen.” said Aodhan.

  The three drank somberly, thinking of the poor wretches. Bryan thought about Phelan and how much grief could have been avoided if someone had only seen the wretchedness in him and chopped off his head. Then his mind jumped to the exploding fence and he said, “A pity that I didn’t know about how to knock down fences two days past.”

  “Knock Phelan over and then cut his head off with your sword,” said Neit, “Oh! That’s what you did! That you used stones instead of wind reveals your very genius in a way that this trick never would. Folks would be commenting how you used Human trickery and magic to defeat the cur Phelan instead of oohing and aahing over how incredibly brave and resourceful you are, and how skilled in the arts of war.”

  Neit took a deep draught from his tankard, and a tale-telling glint came into his eye.“Now I wonder if you’ve heard the story of my Uncle Finn. He would often take us to hunt, himself with his great bow and we two in Wolf form as his hounds. Once we found a huge, shaggy old bear, it must have been as tall as the two of us together. The bear knocked us on our butts, and was about to finish Aodhan, when Finn leapt upon him with nothing but his bare hands. He threw the beast over his hip in a Flying Mare, and would have strangled the life out of it, but the bear cried out for mercy. Fascinated by the idea of a talking bear,
Finn spared the creature and inquired about how it came to speak. As luck would have it, the bear was really a beautiful maiden cursed by her enemies. Uncle Finn found the fiend who had transformed the princess and forced the witch to remove the curse. He then took the princess to wife, and now they have their own little pack; they two and three cubs.”

  “A nice story,” said Bryan, “but if Finn had a bow, why did he use his bare hands to fight the bear? Why not just shoot the thing from a safe distance?”

  Neit shrugged his shoulders and looked at Aodhan, who did the same. “No doubt it was the excitement of the moment,” he said innocently. “I’ve seen hunters who pissed themselves and shot arrows up into the sky at the mere sight of a dunbuck. In any case, please do not expect me to ruin a perfectly good story with logic, and in turn I’ll thank you to not poke holes in my narrative. The point is, the story of how Lord Bryan, Champion of the Queen of Conroight slew the fell Wolf Phelan –”

  Aodhan sniggered. “Fell Wolf Phelan,” he chortled. “Fell Phelan. Our fellow felled Phelan.”

  Neit raised his eyebrows and tried to look superior. “My brother is easily amused. As I was saying, the story of how you killed Phelan with your bare hands and a fistful of cobblestones is already being told and retold around hearth fires and tavern tables all across the territory of Clan Conroight and beyond. By this time next year, you will have beheaded him with his own sword while dripping blood from a thousand wounds. In two years, the sword won’t even be spoken of, you will have been practically dead, and Phelan will have died with your stone sunk into his forehead. All in all, it is a much better tale than blowing him over with a bit of wind.”

  Chapter 24

  Shimshon Ansitif, Lieutenant in the Imperial Guard, sat his horse impatiently outside the gate of North Keep at the head of his column of twenty men. Twelve days ago, he had been rousted out of his comfortable bed in the Capital and deprived of the company of his concubine in order to come to this gods-forsaken castle at the edge of nowhere. He had tried to console himself with the company of various pleasure slaves at the inns on the road up, and had even experimented with the rape of a farmer’s daughter. None of which was as good as the ministrations of little Tamra. Furthermore, one of those road-trip liaisons seemed to have left him with some kind of itching, burning rash.