Twilight of the Wolves

by Edward J. Rathke

For freedom.

  For power.

  Weeks became months and seasons and years wandering the Federation from its far western reaches to the bitter cold of the north and the walls of forest in the south. The people all the same but always saying different words that meant the same thing. The poor and the helpless died before his eyes while those who ruled thrived and lived behind large edifices where no outsiders were allowed. They spoke of freedom and bondage, of the glory of Vulpe and the atrocities of the Crown and the Dragonlords. The markets teemed with people from all over the Federation in different shades of brownred, from hirsute to bare, from artists to musicians to merchants and whores. He spent many nights amongst the bought boys examining the structures of power and illusion holding them in place. The women he met fell into him and his awesome heat and made names for him that were not his own. Blackheart, Hurricane, Moonchild, Wolfboy, and many more worked their way into his consciousness only to fall away from him with the turn of a season or new news of the war. The boys taken from all corners of Vulpe to live in barracks and learn the tools of murder. From the small village co-ops to the grand cities boasting a thousand years of history or more, the hearts of civilisation, he was told. Feeding the hungry, washing the sick, he was given other names by the dying: Twilight Star, Mother, Sister, Brother.

  North of Valencia on the outskirts of Volant he stood under a vacant canopy, all the trees skeletal, snow fluttering down. The music of the trees different, far away, gloaming, echoing off the grey sky. And then howling. His heart dropped, his body on fire, and he was running, the cold blearing his vision, stabbing his lungs.

  The wolves walked and he followed. Large and white, indistinguishable from the snow but for their noses and eyes. The female had two tails and the male had three and Sao watched them sway. They walked south and the female’s ears flicked and she raised her head. The male bolted, running, followed by the female and Sao chased, falling behind, his legs on fire, his lungs full of glass, his vision slowed and opaque, and he lost sight of them quickly. The boundaries heavy and thick and all around, anger flared within him, desperation, and he yelled from deep in his bowels through his lungs and rushing from his mouth until he howled. His body on fire, burning the snow away before it reached him, he ran, tearing through the snow until they appeared far away still running. His heart leapt and he pushed harder, faster, until he was beside them, running through the trees, the snow all round. All was white.

  They ripped the flesh from the elk, their jaws wet and dark with its blood. His mouth full of spit that he swallowed over and over, he watched the sky, vast and grey beyond the blacktrees. The smell filled him, swirling through and around as a frenzied torrent. Sitting in the snow, the female snorted at him but he waved his hand for her. She ate.

  The smell of men and fire. The wolves’ fur bristled but they loped away. Sao watched them but did not move and they stopped, turned to him, their large pulsing eyes on him. Smiling, he walked towards the scent. The wolves sat.

  Short and sinewy, his hair black and to his waist, the moons on his cheeks filled, dark sickle moons. Spring blossomed round him, the fecund scent inside him, beating his heart and filling his lungs. All the world was a forest. All the world was green. The smoke rose through the trees and filled the blushing sky, and the men and their fires appeared. Several took axes and many more sat round in thick leather dyed black and red.

  The first to see ignored Sao but the others called him over, demanding his name and what he was doing there. When he entered the clearing, their eyes hardened and their jaws set. Who are you, a tall dark bearded man demanded, his voice rasped.

  Sao stopped at the edge of the trees, You must leave the forest alone.

  They laughed, first nervously, then louder.

  The woodcutter to Sao’s left continued chopping and Sao rushed, ripped the axe from his hands, breaking his left arm and wrist, then he threw the axe at the bearded man who spoke, the blunt side hitting his chest, knocking him to the ground.

  Movement began in all directions. The men grabbed their weapons and rushed Sao and the wolves burst through the treeline, ripping the men apart, taking them in their jaws and throwing them meters through the air, ripping arms and legs from torsos. Sao fought the thirty men who had stopped to rest with the wolves, like a wolf. His blood boiling, his eyes flaring, the gold bands thickening in his irises.

  They stopped at a river where the wolves drank. He washed the blood from their fur then disrobed and entered the cold winter-water. The steam rose and shrouded him as he scrubbed his hands and his face, over and over and over, the tears streaming, a howl caught in his chest, expanding until he heard the wolves howling beside him, and he stopped scrubbing. Walking towards them, the male and female howling side by side, he scratched beneath their wet jaws, then wrapped his arm around the male who kept howling. The female nuzzled him and he put an arm round her as well, and she took up howling once more.

  Far away, he watched the fires erupt and glow. The screams and explosions reached the forest and silenced its music. The wolves sat ten meters below, their eyes staring through the wood, through the dimensions of spacetime to the battlefield. The wind blew the reek of killing and Death to them and Sao snorted. Dirigibles poured fire onto the fields that were once forest.

  The moons rose, sickled and whole, the planet burned, and the men died.

  Sao watched until bluedawn when the fires turned to embers and smoke clouded the sky for leagues.

  I tell you, not safe any longer anywhere beyond the forest.

  The world is::a forest.

  The world was a forest.

  The large man snorted, shifted the embers of the fire. Two men sat slumped against one another across from him with a third lying asleep to his right under a bundle of leaves and skins. The two redskinned men were long and wiry with shaved heads but for a topknot. Masks of metal bolted into their skulls, one on the left hemisphere of his face and the other mirrored on the right side, their flesh eyes painted, the other a lens on a collapsible scope, and intricate patterns tattooed over their backs and chests and faces like alloy veins coursing through. Identical in build but separated by age, the tattooed men moved with unnatural synchronicity and spoke in duet, their words coming from each other’s mouths, alternating, aluminum.

  Where you from, the big man said.

  They looked at one another, the fire revealing only the edges of their expression, and turned to him, speaking with two voices, the old high and weak, the young low and gravelled, We come from far::far from the east::past mountains and::rivers you have never::heard.

  Aye, but you speak Limpa.

  We speak many::many languages::Limpa for you::Rocan for Rocans::Iliox for Ariel and even::Spreche for Drache.

  He nodded, regarded them through the red flickering glow battling the shadows, What do you make of—What do I call you lot?

  We are Erin::and Nire, they gestured towards one another.

  Aye, I’m Cerill, he shifted the embers again, a few catching flight like fireflies, Must’ve been quite a journey from—From where?

  They looked at one another, then back, speaking in one cacophonous voice, Yiyuyan.

  Cerill coughed, choking on his saliva, You’re Yi?

  We are.

  He leaned back and slapped his knee, By Death, what are—why? Why are you here? You’re not shitting me, aye? Never met a Yi before. No one has, far as I know. But if you’re blowing up my ass, don’t. Too old and tired to be blued around.

  We are Yi.

  Death be still! he stroked his stomach, I’m probably the only one for days and weeks who knows even the smallest bit about Yi, and even that’s as good as nothing. What’s it like, Yiyuyan? I hear it’s a paradise. Trees as thick as a palace and as high as a mountain, lakes that’re cool and still and rivers so pure it can raise the dead.

  They turned to one another and whispered in metallic percussive words that Cerill did not understand but which drifted in him and echoed, growing stronger and stronge
r, connecting to tissue and feeding on the molecules and atoms. They stood then and turned around, Erin’s right foot against Nire’s left, and the language of metal swept out of Cerill but left seeds within.

  He approached them, the wolves lying within hearing distance but hidden. His hand raised high, he spoke in Vulpe, then Garasu, and then the language of his youth, I have no weapon. I come only to sit by the fire.

  Cerill squinted and stepped around the fire, Aye, come on, into the light, let’s get a look at you.

  His long black hair pulled into a topknot that fell down to his neck, his small frame visible, and his empty hands obvious.

  Cerill turned and sat again but the Yi watched Sao take a seat on Cerill’s left and their right across from the sleeping man.

  Cerill cleared his throat, Where you from?

  The forest.

  The forest is the world, Erin and Nire said together.

  Sao blinked and glanced at them who stared at him, Is something wrong?

  You are not::not what you appear to be::that you are not.

  Cerill massaged his neck, Just a man in the woods like anyone else. Got a name?

  Sao.

  Cerill laughed, a short harsh breath, You really are from the forest, aye? One of these villages lost in the trees, aye?

  Sao nodded and nodded towards Erin and Nire, Who are you?

  Oh, they’re Yi if you can believe that. I’m Cerill. He clapped his knees, Never thought I’d be with Yi and a real forester tonight. Say—Sao, aye?—Sao, you know these woods well?

  You are a wolf, said the Yi.

  No.

  You are a wolf::We came to find a wolf::You are a wolf! they stood and then sat, agitated, their bodies turned from languid to hyperactive, their legs bouncing, the rustle and stamping of leaves and dirt and twigs and steam pumping and releasing. They turned and whispered metallurgically to one another, the cacophonous music of their mouths tanged and clinked and welded round the fire.

  Now, what’s this then, aye?

  Cerill, Sao turned to him, What do you know of the war?

  Cerill leaned back and exhaled loudly, Vulpe’s on the move and has been for two years, secretly at first, but there are no secrets now. Drache’s fighting back but it’s hard to know what’s really happening. Better not to know. That’s what brings me into the forest.

  Wolf::you must::we must speak::you are a wolf::speak with us!

  I do not want to speak with you. You disturb me.

  They stood, Wolf!::oh wolf::we apologise::sincerely::but we must speak::we must.

  Cerill laughed, Talk on, go ahead.

  I am not a wolf, his voice quiet but firm.

  There is a legend::and we followed it to this overland where::wolves::all the wolves::came from millennia::into the past::and out of the past::is born the future::ours::the world’s::we came in search of wolves::and we found you::here::in Yi the word for world::is forest::and the word::for god::is wolf::but there are no wolves::in the east::none who speak with humans::none who allows humans to see them::but you::we have found you::will you come to Yiyuyan?

  Sao scowled but did not look at them. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward, I do not understand.

  Me neither.

  You are a wolf::we need you::we all need you!

  I do not want to be a wolf. I am a man. A cursed man but a man. For now.

  Cerill’s brow furrowed, Erin, Nire, sit, you’re incomprehensible and aggravating with your bobbing about. You say you’re cursed? We may all be cursed. If the world is the forest then the world’s burning down.

  I tried to save the life of a wolf and for that I have been cursed. My body is on fire and I fear that it will kill me. But instead it only consumes. I will soon be a wolf. A demon. But I am still a man. Unless you can help me stop this, I do not want to hear about wolves. Humans and wolves no longer understand one another. I was cursed. I am cursed.

  A demon?

  Save you?::can we save him?::a wolf to save us::not us for the wolf::but::maybe, they huddled together and spoke quickly, in dissonant music.

  When I dream I am a wolf and I see the Memories of the World. Perhaps it is only the memory of the wolves. I see millions of years into the past but the future is opaque, granulated. I see nothing but shadows. When I am not a wolf I am a boy again with Laska, beautiful Laska, Sao stared into the flames, his expression distant and alone.

  Aye, we all have one like her. The girls we left behind or lost in a past life. A demon, aye? I’ve never met a demon but it couldn’t be so bad being kind of immortal. You call it a curse but I call it a gift and I know that wolf who touched you felt the same. The wolves may not be altruistic but neither are they malicious or vengeful. Your wolf thought to elevate you and would probably be ashamed to hear the pain it’s caused.

  I know. I hear her. She is the voice inside my head that calms me when I am ravenous. I thought it was Laska but it was her. The wolf. She speaks to me and I hold her essence within me.

  Wolf!::we will help you::but first we must return::to Yiyuyan::you have given us much::much to think about::to think about takes time but::we have decided to::help::help in what way we can::if we can::but first we must go::and then you must come::to Yiyuyan! Towering over him, the Yi’s smiles gleamed in the firelight. They took Sao by the shoulders and kissed him on the mouth, first one, then the other. Farewell::brother wolf::Erin and::Nire will save you::we must go::but find Yiyuyan and::all will be better::but::for now::we give you this. They lifted him up with surprising ease and enclosed him in the circle of their bodies and united arms. Closing their eyes, bowing their heads, smiling wide and placid, they sang, the sound of metal rending, of it beating against metal, of steel on steel and welded tings of the hammer, and then within the cacophonous vortex, a soft chime grew from far away, singing through the percussive beat of their mouths. They swayed and the air cooled around Sao, his breath caught in his throat, as if thrown into icy water, his heart skipping beats, his eyes wide and dry. The song continued, the minutes wore on, the pain, a frozen burn deep below the surface, coagulating his boiling blood. The sway of their bodies gave him the sensation of twisting, of being caught in a tornado, the world spinning round him, blurring away reality in soft fiery hues. When they stopped, he fell and they caught him, set him down again.

  Thank you::brother wolf::that will protect you for a long time from::transforming::

  find us as soon::as you can::remember Yiyuyan::the word for world is forest::the world is a forest::look for us::in Yiyuyan::found beneath::and through::across::and below::a crack::a break:: through the dark::est of night::comes the bright::est of twilights! And they ran into the forest, the night swallowing them.

  Cerill stared at the fire and glanced at Sao often, who swayed in his seat, leaning on his hand, then his shoulder. I don’t know what to make of what just happened, he said.

  Nor do I.

  Did it help?

  I do not know.

  It looks interesting.

  What does?

  The charm they gave you. It might be Yigold.

  Sao felt the light stone on his chest, cold to the touch and incandescent with swirling twilight.

  Will you go to Yi?

  I do not know how.

  No one does.

  How will I find it then, he said without inflection.

  Cerill scratched his neck. Might be someone in Luca knows. If anywhere, it’d be there.

  I have heard of Luca.

  Cerill laughed, I bet you have. The whole world’s heard of Luca.

  What is it like there?

  Whistling, he said, It’s like nowhere but everywhere. It’s the center of the world. Big and bright and beautiful. It’s the heart of civilisation but also its most cruel child. It’s everything and nothing, but the whole world exists within it, if only on a small scale. A microcosm of all of existence.

  When all of this started and I realised what was happening to me, I went in search of weapons like what killed the wolf. I searched fo
r rifles and thought if I could stop rifles from reaching the world then I could stop this curse—Cerill laughed—You’re right to laugh but I am serious. I went in search of those who kill and found that it is not one or two or even one hundred people acting this way. It is everyone. All people who have the power to exercise choice exercise it upon someone or something. I found Vera on accident and then went to Valencia on purpose. I spent four years in Vulpe but found no answers, found no humanity. I went in search of evil in order to stop it and found that evil was everywhere and justice was nowhere. Where I come from there are no weapons like that. There were not. There may be now. When I was exiled the rifles were new to us. The civilised world found us and brought destruction with it. People told me about the wonders of the civilised world and my excitement grew. They taught me language and symbols, what power is and what it means, but they did not teach me who wielded it because none of them know. Everyone believes that they are the possessor never realising that they are already possessed. They taught me of art and I fell in love with it. Truthfully, I have never seen anything so wondrous as the market theatre of Valencia but what is art but another system of symbols based around control? All the world is subject to those who have power, whether it is symbolic or violent. The illusion of theatre is a manipulation of the viewer. It is—how to say?—exquisite—?—but it is not real. It does not feed the hungry or save lives or stop rifles and their ironballs. It is a way of appeasement. The actors mock their masters and this is allowed because their masters do not fear them. It is a supplication. They feign outrage and bully the artists in order to distract. It is illusion. The true theatre is beyond the stage. None of it is real. The twelve chairs for the twelve states of Vulpe where thirteen women pretend to be twenty million. What is that but theatre?

  Where does the war fit in?

  Sao shook his head and dropped it into his hands, That I do not know. I do not know who the actors are or what the script is. I do not even know the dimensions of the stage. It may be that the war is real. Perhaps only violence is real and the rest is just a structure of symbols that must be analysed and misunderstood by everyone, even those who use them. I do not understand war. It is only the civilised who seem so bent towards destruction. They say Vulpe is paradise and the model for civilisation. I have met men and women from the three nations I know of and they all appear to agree that Vulpe is the pinnacle but I have been there. They say that people may only live properly within civilisation. They called me a barbarian because I was raised deep in the forest surrounded by wolves and demons and living gods, though we never saw this. We heard the wolves and knew of them but I only saw one for the first time a few weeks before my exile. They called me a barbarian but there is no violence or injustice there. I was sent away and I resented them until I had been in Vera for half a year and I understood that this civilisation was cruel and heartless and demeaning. I thought maybe it was because of its location and so I went to the capital, to Valencia. They said I did not understand but I do better than they know. I have been to civilisation. It does not seem civilised.