Path of The Calm (Saga of The Wolf Book 1)

by Kris Hiatt

  Treace felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped in surprise. He looked and saw the last list brother smiling at him. He motioned for Treace to exit the line.

  He couldn’t believe it, he knew he wasn’t going to be accepted and yet here he was. He wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or jump for joy. He thought he might do both. He nearly did but then remembered where he was and the gravity of the situation. He calmed himself as best he could and walked to the back to join the rest of the accepted.

  “Welcome to the Path of Choosing,” the brother began as he approached. This time Treace relished every word.

  #

  “I’m so proud of you,” his mother said as she held him tight, stroking his hair.

  “You helped me get here,” Treace pointed out, more relieved than he let on. He knew he wouldn’t be going home with her, but he didn’t fail her. That was what was most important.

  “No, don’t belittle what you’ve accomplished. You did this, not me.”

  He knew what she was saying, but knew that it wasn’t possible without her or Jensen’s help. He didn’t want to argue with her, though, so he just said, “Thank you, Mother.”

  “I’m glad they let you come back out, at first I was happy because I thought it meant you were accepted, but then I was worried I wouldn’t get to say goodbye,” she said, pushing him back to arm’s length.

  They were given the title of Initiate before they allowed them to see their families. They made them wait until after the applicants that weren’t selected moved on with their families before they could go out to see theirs. The other initiates were talking with their families and saying their goodbyes as well. They were given a short amount of time to say their farewells and collect their belongings.

  “I’m glad too, Mother. I was so nervous up there, I didn’t think I was going to be selected.”

  “But you were, and even though I am going to miss you terribly, I am very proud of you.”

  “I’ll miss you too,” he told her. He knew he was going to miss her, but he thought it was better to miss her because he succeeded rather than to miss her in disappointment. He almost told her of the amended letter of commendation then, but decided not to for some reason. He guessed since he passed, it didn’t matter anyway.

  “Most of the others are headed back, you should too,” his mother told him.

  He looked around and found she was right. Many had already made their way back to the entrance. Only a handful remained.

  “I love you,” she said, and hugged him again.

  “I love you too,” he said. He picked up his travel sack and walked into the College.

  #

  The remaining twenty-eight spent that afternoon touring the College grounds and being introduced to the magisters. There were thirty initiates, but one member said he didn’t wish to join, he only wanted to see if he could successfully pass the test. Another was dismissed when they found that he wasn’t who he claimed to be. He had beaten another applicant the night before and stole his applicant paper. The constable’s men had found the beaten boy and sent men to inform the Archmagister. From all the yelling and screaming the young man did on his way out, Treace gathered that the young man thought the College was out of any constable’s jurisdiction.

  They were also shown to their quarters, which they shared with another initiate. The room was small and didn’t offer much in the way of privacy, but it was a place that was warm and they could call their own. Treace was one of the lucky two; he was slated to share a room with the one who decided not to join. He didn’t want to question his good luck, so he didn’t say anything.

  The evening consisted of a wonderful meal and a celebration in their honor. Treace, and most of the initiates, went to bed early, exhausted from the emotional taxation the whole process placed upon them.

  After the morning bell had rung, waking them, they had spent the morning, their first as a member of the College, picking up their new beige robes from the local tailor in Kilindric. They spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon touring the rest of the city. A few of the brothers caught a glimpse of their families one more time as they waited on a ship to leave. Treace knew he wouldn’t see his mother, though, for she had booked a spot on a ship that sailed yesterday afternoon.

  They were then brought back to the College where they ate lunch and then attended a course on the history of the College. Part of the course covered the current rules and regulations and they all had to agree to, and sign, a paper indicating as such. Failure to comply with the rules could mean extra assigned duties, a reduction in rank, or dismissal from the College. One of the assigned duties was a shift in the bell house ringing the bell. The history course lasted late into the night with many different magisters taking their turn as speaker.

  He was very excited about the courses that followed the first two years of his tutelage. That was when he was able to begin learning to use magic. The history class told about the different Paths a brother could walk during his time at the College. First was Path of The Calm, where a brother learned to emotionally center themselves and is the foundation from which all of the true magic is built from. After that came Path of Heart, in which a brother could learn to heal minor wounds. After mastering the healing magic, a brother would learn Path of Warding, in which a magical barrier could be enacted to protect the user against attacks. Path of Tears was the second to last Path a brother could walk, and it bestowed the magical ability to produce pure water. The final, and most dangerous, Path was Path of Fire, in which the user could make parts of their body so hot they could melt ice or warm them from winter’s bite.

  Treace was tired as he walked back to his room from the late night rules meeting and history class. His robes whisked gently around him and he couldn’t help but feel like a girl in a dress. That made him think of Emiah and he wondered if she would be proud of him for what he had accomplished. He thought of his mother and Jensen and wondered how proud they must be. He stopped walking as he realized he forgot something; Jensen’s letter. He scolded himself for forgetting about the letter from his friend. Jensen asked him to wait until after his mother left, and she had left yesterday morning.

  He made it to his room and opened the door. It wasn’t locked. None of the brothers under the rank of Magister could have a door that locked. Theft wasn’t really a worry, because that crime meant dismissal.

  He closed the door behind him and placed his candle lantern on the table. Every brother was required to purchase one and between it and two robes he purchased, he was nearly out of money. He went to his travel sack and rummaged through it. He pulled out the children’s story his father read to him and placed it on his bed. He removed his small pouch containing a few vials of ink and removed the small box containing quills. His hand touched something smaller than his fist but heavy and he removed the extra pommel he had made. He looked at the wolf paw and placed it on the bed next to his vials of ink. Finally he found the piece of paper, folded into fours. He sat on his bed and thought again of Jensen writing two versions of the note; one for passing, one for not. He smiled and opened the letter.

  My dearest son,

  I want to start off by telling you how sorry I am. I am sorry for leaving you. I am sorry for leaving your mother, the love of my life. I am sorry for not being there for you when you needed someone to talk to. I am sorry for not teaching you how to fish or hunt or any other of the many things a father should teach his son. I am sorry that you have to read this. I am sorry for so many things, but most of all my dear son, I am sorry that I was not able to watch you grow into the fine young man that I know you have become.

  My explanation may shed some light on things for you, but I hold no illusion that it will make things right. Many years without the love of a father, or the needed advice and support a father should provide to his son, will take many years to get over, if ever. But I did what I thought best for you and your future. While it is difficult to live without your father, something you must
now be so painfully aware. An awareness that you never asked for or wanted. Again, I am so sorry, my son. I wanted, needed to secure your future.

  You are seven years old as I write this, and you are so bright, my son. You are much smarter than I ever was at that age and will become far more intelligent than I ever could. I know this in my heart. You understand everything after one simple explanation or simply figure it out for yourself. You deserve more than the few books and knowledge I can provide.

  You are in your bed now, taking a nap. You look so innocent, so at peace. I know not what the afterlife entails, but I know I will miss you immensely.

  I have devised a plan for you to attend the College near Kilindric. A family of our station could hardly hope to earn enough money to pay the required entrance fee. They call it a donation, but it is required if you want your child to attend. The current fee is over fifty kadens, something I couldn’t hope to earn in thirty years working for the constable. I have thought of every conceivable way to get you into the College without risking my life, but this is the most certain way in which I know that you and your mother’s future will be secure.

  I dared not to involve your mother in fear for her life, and yours. If this letter has found its way to you, then Jensen has completed the task I have set before him. He is a good man, Treace, trust him as you would have trusted me.

  This letter is getting long and you should be waking up from your nap soon, so I must end this shorter than I had wanted. If my suspicions are correct, and I believe they are, then I regret that I will most likely only be able to spend a few more days with you. Jensen can fill you in on the rest of the plan, if you are curious to know. Just know it is my wish for you to attend the College and succeed.

  I want to close by saying again that I am so very sorry. Your life means more to me than my own. You are the greatest achievement of my life. You are the best parts of me, and none of my faults. Live well, my son. Study hard, live life, love fiercely, and do the right thing if for no other reason than it is the right thing to do. But above all, my son, live knowing that I love you with all that my heart has to offer.

  I love you, my son.

  Father

  At first Treace was confused; what was Jensen apologizing for? Then, after he finished the first paragraph, he realized who it was from. His heart started pounding in his chest and he started over, reading it from the beginning. When he finished, he held the letter to his chest and cried, tears flowed from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He cried for the loss of his father; he didn’t know how much he missed and loved him until his emotions were laid bare by the reading of the letter. He cried because he missed his mother. He cried because he was alone.

  Chapter 11

  There was a knock on the door and it opened a little ways before Brother Moffred, one of Treace’s closest friends, stuck his head through.

  “Hey, there you two are,” he said.

  “Here we are,” Treace replied. He was sitting with the other of his two closest friends, Heral, when Moffred entered the room. All three had been close friends since they joined the order two years ago.

  “As if we could get away from you,” Heral teased.

  “Ouch!” Moffred said, clutching his chest in mock pain. They shared a laugh.

  “What’s the plan for tonight?” Heral asked Moffred.

  Heral was bright and Treace thought he was the clear leader in the class where the Path of The Calm was concerned. He had successfully found The Calm more times than anyone else. He came from a wealthy family but didn’t talk about them too much and didn’t wear too expensive of clothing, so Treace figured either he was trying to hide who he was, or hide from it. Either way, he wasn’t going to press him.

  Moffred on the other hand, had come from a wealthy family in a small town near Kadenton that was known for being wealthy. His father was a constable, and at first, Treace couldn’t help but to be reminded of Wren. It didn’t take him long to figure out that Moffred was nothing like Wren, however; Moff, as they called him, didn’t have any issues with pretending to be better than anyone. He really enjoyed life and used his family’s money to prove it. He wore expensive robes during school time and wore even more expensive clothing when they weren’t. Everything was a reason to drink with Moff, and Treace found it nearly impossible to not have fun when in Moff’s company. Lewd, crude, loud, and obnoxious; everything Treace wasn’t, and he loved him for it.

  “Well there’s only two bars, so there isn’t much to choose from. The ladies at both are normally nothing to be desired, but after two years of hardly being able to leave this place, the wine makes them fine,” Moff replied with a wink.

  “Well pick one, so I can drink something,” Heral said. “The pork at dinner was excessively salted and I need at least a gallon to quench my thirst.”

  “I see he’s just as talkative as usual,” Moff said, indicating Treace.

  “Perhaps if you were better conversationalists, I may join in,” Treace retorted.

  “Perhaps if you could find The Calm we would have something to talk about,” Heral said.

  “Oh, leave him alone about it. Now he’s going to be thinking about that all night instead of having fun. Good job, Heral,” Moff said.

  “Blame him, not me. I’m not the one that can’t find The Calm.”

  “We’ll see if you can find your way home tonight on your own, I’m not carrying you this time,” Treace said to Moff.

  “I’m hoping I don’t come home,” Moff said with another wink.

  “True,” Heral said. “We don’t have class tomorrow. The jail could use another visitor.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and that has only happened twice,” Moff said indignantly.

  “Three times,” Treace corrected. “You were still passed out when we hauled you back a third time.”

  They laughed at each other and Treace was happy to have friends like these. He wasn’t used to having friends; most of his childhood he spent alone or with adults. Most of the other kids his age had no idea how to respond to him. He wasn’t like them and never fit in. For the first time in his life, he finally felt like he did.

  “So are you going to make me one of those or what?” Heral asked.

  “One of what?” Moff asked before Treace could reply.

  “If you really want one, yes, I’ll make you one,” Treace said.

  “I repeat, one of what?” Moff said.

  “Show him,” Heral said.

  Treace did as his friend asked and pulled a leather necklace from his tunic; he was glad to be wearing trousers and a tunic instead of his robes. It had been two years and he still didn’t like the way the robes made him feel.

  “That’s nice I guess,” Moff said.

  “Tell him the story,” Heral prompted.

  “You tell him, I think you are more excited about it than I am,” Treace said.

  “Okay, so Treace is some kind of master smith or something and before he left to come here,” Heral began.

  He was good at telling stories and Treace thought it would sound better if he told it, otherwise Treace thought he might sound emotional if he had to tell it.

  “He made swords for two of his friends before he left. One for the man that taught him how to swordfight, and the other for the man who taught him how to smith. He made the swords perfectly and used ebony wood for the handles and the wolf paw for the pommels.”

  Moff looked only mildly impressed.

  “But the best thing about it is why he used the wolf paw,” Heral said, smiling. He continued after a short silence and Treace could tell he was hoping to get Moff to ask why and only continued when Moff didn’t. Heral’s smile faded. “He used the wolf paw because wolves hunt in packs. They play together in packs. They go everywhere with one another and would fight to defend each other. He gave them wolf paws indicating they were part of Treace’s pack, part of his family.”

  “Now that’s a good reason,” Moff said, seemingly impressed.

  “So
this emblem was on a sword?”

  “No,” Treace corrected. “The swords have their own. This was an extra that I recently made into a charm while working for Mr. Uripo.”

  “The smith in Kilindric,” Heral clarified when Moff looked confused.

  “So you want Treace to make you one?” Moff asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a nice gesture, don’t you think? You should have him make you one too. All of us a part of the pack,” Heral said.

  “Well, we do hunt together,” Moff said with another of his famous winks.

  “It’s settled then. Treace, make us each one of those charms. We are a pack of our own. Three strong wolves stalking the night and everything in it,” Heral said.

  “Oh, I’ll gladly make you one, Heral,” Treace said, setting the trap.

  “You won’t make me one?” Moff asked.

  “No,” Treace replied.

  “Why would you make Heral one and not me?” Moff asked.

  Treace could detect a little hurt in his friend’s voice. “Because he’s my friend,” Treace said, slamming the trap shut.

  “OH! That’s just mean!” Heral roared. “I love you for it.”

  “Good one Treace,” Moff said, shaking his head. “I didn’t see that one.”

  “So are we leaving or what?” the impatient Heral asked.

  “Oh, we’re going,” said Moff and ushered Treace and Heral out the door.