Son of hell: Blood of wolves

by Michaela Burdová

  They lit a small fire and Neran did Liadel a little favour. He toasted two slices of bread and added only an apple. No meat.The elven smiled.

  "Are you going to tell me about Aragen?"

  Neran muttered something through a mouthful of his food. He sounded annoyed.

  "I ended tied up on her sacrificial stone, so I think I deserve to know the truth."

  "Fine, but only on the condition that you tell me what you have in common with Aragen too."

  "I don’t have anything in common with her, just with her ancestor."

  Neran took a deep breath. He hated that part of his life. "At the time, Gerrat was still grieving and I was trying to distract him. I now know that he will carry his grief around forever. We had both changed. The killings no longer made any sense, it was no longer fun. For months and from all sides, we have heard rumours about a pack of werewolves who called themselves darkwolves. Then one day I convinced myself that we should find out what they were. That´s how it all began," he paused. Liadel waited. She did not urge him to continue, but gave him time.

  "We found the pack. It was hard because the darkwolves often moved from place to place, depending on where they were hunting. We followed them for some time, gathering information as we did so. We found out that silver would not kill them, that they were more animal than human, and that they used some kind of Dark Force. Then they discovered us.

  Up until that point, I’d never seen their leader, but when she came ... well, she just blew me away. I stared at her as if in a trance. I had never seen a more magnificent woman. Aragen offered us friendship and said we could stay with them for as long as we wanted. She hoped that we would eventually join them and become part of their pack.

  I didn´t realize what had happened to me. Everything was suddenly different and she became the centre of my life. I couldn´t think of anything else.Nothing else mattered to me.She was the only thing on my mind.

  Gerrat soon noticed and kept trying to convince me to get out of there while we still could. My fascination with Aragen had turned to obsession, so much so that I began to push my brother out. He got on my nerves and I wanted to get rid of him. He wanted me to leave Aragen and I couldn´t accept it.

  Gerrat claimed that I was under the influence of her power. Today, with the benefit of hindsight, I know he was right.

  Persuasion hadn´t worked, so he finally tried to get me out of there by force. He almost succeeded. I wasn´t ready for it and was just on the verge of falling asleep when it happened. I defended myself. When that didn´t work, he tried to kill Aragen.

  As you know, he wasn´t successful. I went completely out of my mind and attacked him, not thinking about anything else other than his death. I almost succeeded. I almost killed him."

  Neran lay on his back and leaned up on his elbows. He tried to pretend to be in control, but the memories caused the blood in his veins to boil. "Every werewolf is born with a birthmark. The birthmark is always located in a different part of the body. We hide it all our lives because it is also our greatest weakness. One blow to the spot and we are dead." He looked at Liadel with a provoking grin. "Don’t even think that I'll tell you about mine. I can see you´re already thinking about it."

  Liadel rolled her eyes. "Please continue, Neran."

  "Well, it was a miracle that I didn´t kill my brother. Something caused me to wake up from the enchantment. I think it was our blood bond. I broke it and this most probably woke me up. I was horrified at what I'd done ... As you know, I only destroy things. Especially when it comes to my own family and anybody else I should care for.

  I ran away from the pack and brought my comatose brother with me. I could not think of a better place than to take him to the dwarves. It was Etwik who told me about the Tears of Étarlina. I grabbed onto the idea. You know the rest."

  Liadel was silent for a long time.Her face was impenetrable.Neran was glad that she did not say anything.He did not want to add any more detail than necessary to his story.He had simply told her all that he wanted to and that was that.There was nothing further to analyse.

  "Aragen’s first ancestor, the founder of her pack, was named Wolfgar," Liadel began her story."He came to me four hundred and forty-five years ago.The packs of the Sons of Hell were already close to extinction, but he was determined to preserve his family.He wanted a guarantee that nothing could destroy it and that his bloodline would become invulnerable.So he came to me.

  Wolfgar was a powerful werewolf. He had heard that I was seeking a new source of power. It was true. At that time, we were already engulfed by the Darkness. However, the ceremony to destroy our souls had not yet taken place. The ceremony would elevate us to a higher plain of existence, as demons. The First, who was the strongest of us all, prevented that from happening.

  Although I was quite powerful, he was still far superior to me. Even with the combined efforts of everyone else, we could not oppose him. He was looking for a way to atone for his mistake because it was he who had brought us the Source of Power. Unfortunately, he couldn´t have known that it was the source of all darkness and that it was already too late for our salvation.

  At the time, Wolfgar’s offer seemed like the perfect opportunity. I knew that werewolves had their roots in the depths of hell and that the spectacular Fires of Hell were hidden inside them. We could combine our forces. With Wolfgar’s power I could become powerful enough to defeat the First. In return, Wolfgar, with my dark powers, could ensure the survival of his pack. We therefore made an agreement."

  Neran remained silent. He knew what was coming next, but it still sent shivers down his spine.

  "In order to connect our forces, Wolfgar had to sacrifice himself. I ripped out his heart and ate it. The power came instantly. At the same time, I felt a connection being established with his descendants. Darkness poured into their veins which gave them renewed power. I remember that there were just a few of them at the time and that they chose to stay in hiding. It took them a long time before they managed to create a strong pack. They survived for two centuries. Things changed when Aragen was born. She did not want to just survive. She wanted to rule. She had the power and was intent on using it. Neran, she is the only direct descendant of Wolfgar. That’s why we are connected."

  Everything had fallen into place. Neran needed a moment to absorb it.

  "That’s why you were so strong when you woke up. Thanks to the power of the werewolves," he added. Liadel nodded in agreement. He did not know what to say. Like Liadel, it was most probably better to say nothing.

  "We should get some sleep," Liadel finally suggested. "It has been a tough evening."

  Chapter 19

  Visit to the Dwarves

  Neran stopped before the first of the three bridges from Arnnolen to Kiantell. The bridge was tall. Massive stone bears stood on their hind legs in the river to support it. Their forelimbs were raised over their heads, as if they were carrying the bridge. On either side of the start of the bridge was a statue of a dwarf in armour. One of the statues was holding a banner with the coat of arms of the dwarf territory of Kiantell. The golden bear and wolf insignia denoted the start of the territory.

  Anyone who knew anything about dwarves would immediately have recognized whose work it was. Dwarves were excellent sculptors.

  Neran put his hands on his hips. It had been a long time since he had walked over such a bridge for the last time. He usually approached Kiantell from a direction other than Arnnolen. He looked back at Liadel. She stood in the middle of intersection of the trade roads looking at an old sign informing travellers in which directions they could go. The wooden arrow pointing to the left across the bridge bore the inscription: Kingdom of Kiantell, Gworn 19 miles, Horral 26 miles. Neran knew that Gworn was Etwik’s village and that Horral was a small town that lay a little further to the south. They could reach the village in a few hours. It was then that the realization hit home that he had actually managed to find a cure! What face would Gerrat make when he woke up?

  He
did not want to think about it.

  In contrast, ever since he had woken up that morning,he had not stopped thinking about the previous day’s conversation with Liadel. Both of them had revealed their innermost secrets. Neran had opened up his heart to Liadel with something that he had never told anyone else before. Not even Etwik knew the whole truth about Gerrat’s coma. After a long time, Liadel too had truly opened up to Neran. He suddenly realized that she respected him.

  Neran entered the bridge first. It was broad in order to accommodate both carriages and wagons. In contrast, the stone walls on the edges were low, barely reaching up to Neran’s knees. Dwarves built according to their own standards. Artfully prepared railings decorated with precious stones protruded from the walls. If the sun had been shining they would have certainly sparkled in the sun until your eyes hurt. Fortunately for Neran, the sky that day was obscured by white clouds.

  Liadel walked on the opposite side, admiring the beauty around them. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice filled with appreciation. "There is nothing but water around us and we are in the middle of it. There is nothing else to see for miles around, not even mountains in the distance. Just water."

  "Almost like a sea," Neran agreed. "Dwarves are great hosts," he said suddenly changing the subject. "I lived here for a while. They celebrate every day and drink beer and mead. It´s a good reason to stay, right? They don’t have anything like taverns, but every night dwarves invite their neighbours round to their homes for a feast and entertainment. Believe me, you´ll have some great fun with them, unlike with the elves."

  "Dwarves overeat, get drunk, yell, and hold belching competitions," Liadel fired back right away. "What's so funny about that?"

  "Just about everything," Neran sneered and then smiled.

  Suddenly, the sky darkened and a grey shadow descended upon them. Neran was still grinning when he noticed the cool, white mist crawling around his legs. It rose up from the river and meandered along the bridge wall.

  He saw someone in the distance. He focused his vision. There was a figure hidden in the mist. It was a woman. She was sat on one of the walls and was leaning against the railing. Without thinking, Neran went directly towards her, his pace quickening as he did so. Then as suddenly as she had appeared, she disappeared, concealed by a cloud of mist.

  He stopped, stood amidst the mist and looked around. There was nowhere for her to hide. As the mist melted away, so to did the strange shadow that accompanied it. The sky was clear again.

  Neran could have sworn to himself that he had just seen a woman. Now he felt that he was going mad.

  "What's going on?" Liadel asked.

  "Nothing," he replied, and kept walking. Liadel walked beside him.

  "Yesterday you mentioned that your brother carries grief inside him. What happened?"

  "You never miss a thing, do you?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Gerrat fell in love. We quarrelled about it. I left because Gerrat wanted to settle down. When I returned after some time, he was a broken man. His wife Nia had died of some human disease that we cannot catch."

  "So your brother found love and happiness."

  "Yep. It was happiness. He used to mumble all the same things as you, about how lucky he was to have met her, how love had changed his life, and the like. I saw things differently. He would have been much better off if he had never fallen in love. It completely changed him! Werewolves don’t care for love."

  "So you've never been in love," Liadel deduced.

  "Nope, and I won’t be."

  "You fight it so hard, Neran, all your feelings ... You reject everything good that might happen in your life. Why? Do you really believe that running around the world carefree will make you happy?"

  Neran fidgeted. "I don’t believe in love, happiness, or good. I believe only in myself, in my strength, and my ability to survive. Life is a beast just like me."

  "Neran, you're not a beast."

  "I guess I have been too nice to you. You really don’t know what´s inside me."

  "I think I do."

  Neran paused and turned towards her. "Keep your wise speech to yourself, will you? You know nothing!"

  "I know that you won´t let anybody into your heart. Your heart is hiding behind a hard, impenetrable barrier that is supposed to protect it. You're like steel, because you're afraid. You know that emotional pain is far worse than bodily pain. You´re afraid that it might destroy you. That´s why you keep your distance, isn´t it?"

  Neran looked at her and shook with rage. He could feel the teeth in his gums start to turn into fangs. He was furious and did not know why. He quickly turned away from Liadel and tried to control himself. He was so angry with her! Yet ... he remembered how his brother had often teased him in childhood: Everyone gets angry when they hear the truth!

  "What about you?" he snapped and turned to her again. "You preach to me about feelings and God knows what else, but what about yourself? You were a demon. You’ve killed and eaten the hearts of your people. What do you know about love and feelings?"

  "I wasn´t always a demon. Once upon a time I had my own life. I fell in love. Twice. The first time was puppy love, a delirious outburst. The second time ..." she stopped and turned towards the river. She did not finish her sentence.

  Neran insisted: "What happened the second time?"

  "It doesn´t matter," she smiled. "We should be going."

  After a few hours, a green horizon finally appeared. Liadel’s words seemed to have been etched onto Neran´s brain and echoed constantly through his head. She wasn´t right. No, no, no.

  The end of the bridge, like the start of the bridge, was marked by two statues of dwarf warriors. A rutted path stretched out before them. Next to it was a sign in Dwarf language.

  "Translate, Neran," Liadel teased him. "As you're such good friends with the dwarves, you should be able to."

  "It's hard to read," Neran snubbed her and passed the sign without any interest. He had of course learned some basics of the Dwarf language, but more speech than written word. "Gworn village is this way."

  The landscape here was exactly as he remembered it: fresh, clean, and bright. They went down a dirt road from which tracts branched off into the fields and meadows around them. Neran knew that if they turned south they would soon see the outline of the massive Kargalar mountain range, which was not only the largest in Kiantell, but also far and wide. It was the source of the River Syren, as well as where the dwarves from the southern valleys went mining. It was said that an eternal mist resided there and that the Sirens hid in the mountain caves near the springs.

  They descended into a grassy valley. In the distance the Moss Mountains filled the entire western horizon like a shield. They had acquired their name from the thick moss that grew on them and which formed mossy paths between them. Neran knew that dwarves built their villages in valleys and, in contrast, their cities in the hills. Gworn lay in a basin. The surrounding hills served as pastures for goats and sheep. Dwarves farmed the animals for milk and wool, and as a source of meat. They loved meat and passionately worshiped Mother Nature. Dwarves considered themselves to be her servants and abode to the same or similar festivals as elves. They therefore avoided hunting, with exception to the one day in the month when hunting for sustenance was blessed.

  The path was steep and rocky. They soon came upon a huge statue of a chubby dwarf, sitting right next to the road. At its base lay flat stone slabs, altars full of gold and goblets of mead. The statue itself was decorated with gold and its armour adorned with glittering stones.

  Neran decided to impress Liadel a little. "The area around the statue is something like a sacred place for dwarves.They have observation points and patrols all over the valley, so the statue is well guarded."

  "Yes, I know," Liadel agreed with a nod, while Neran grinned. Why did she have to know everything?

  "It´s an offering to their ancestors," Liadel replied. "Dwarves are not too pious but they do worship and pray to their ancestors. They are Gods to t
hem."

  "Yeah, but they have the Gods of the Mountains."

  "They are their ancestors as well. They were the first dwarves and became Gods after their deaths."

  "This one," Neran said, pointing at the statue, which was almost two heads taller than him and at least five times wider, "is the dwarf who first discovered this valley and founded the village.His name was Prda or something like that."

  "Prrad," Liadel corrected him.

  The village was already in sight. From above, it was shaped like a figure eight and was bordered by standing stones. As they approached, it was possible to have a better look at the stones. They were tall and oval and seemed to grow from the ground because they were sunk into it. The flat surfaces were covered in Dwarf runes. Etwik had once explained to Neran that they were incantations which protected the village from evil. Neran never believed that they worked, but accepted that if that was what the dwarves believed and what made them feel better, then so be it.

  The path led into a passage which was marked by two stones on each side of it connected at the top by a capstone arch engraved with large runes that read GWORN.

  Before they had a chance to look around, a patrol rushed towards them. A huge brown bear charged forward, the ground shaking with its every stride. Its fur rippled, just like its lips, revealing its deadly fangs. The bear drew to a halt in front of them and stomped and snorted. Neran retreated a little, as did Liadel who looked confused. This was not the usual welcome. Then again, elves usually announced their visits to dwarves in advance.

  The bear´s nostrils widened to sniff their odours. While it did so, Neran noticed the two dwarves sitting on its back. The bear took a step closer and the dwarves pointed their lances at the visitors. "Who are you?"

  Then one of them winked and whispered to the other:

  "It's Neran, the Wolf’s Eye."

  "Your right, it is him."

  "Wolf's Eye?" Liadel whispered into Neran’s ear. "Nice."

  "I hate it when they call me that," he growled and turned to the riders. "Greetings, Spiky and Ubrum."