The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (12 page)

Nothing had been said of the purpose of his
training, but Neach got the impression that it was of imminent
importance. Frequently throughout the day, Neach would witness
Fenris in what appeared to be a fit of anxiety. Pacing around the
wooded area around outside the encampment or sitting down by the
water, he always appeared uneasy. It was as if there was a volatile
storm on the horizon, even on the sunniest of days.

Yet, he said nothing. The only focus in his
mind was understanding the various teachings of the Toriik Riamendi
and pleasing Fenris’ desires. After just a few days, he was
starting to grasp a basic understanding of the book before him.

He brought it everywhere he travelled. If he
went to collect fruit and water, he brought the book with him and
read whilst walking. Every second of his time was spent immersed in
the archaic language of the tome. So many questions filled his mind
as he sifted through the plethora of stories held within the
book.

Even when he was involved in his physical
training with Fenris, he couldn’t help but allow his mind to stray
toward the thought of the contents of the Toriik Riamendi.

Early in the morning, near ten days after
Neach’s arrival, Fenris called upon him for his daily conditioning
work. Before they got into the intense physical aspect of the
conditioning, Fenris required Neach to hit five targets from thirty
yards with his bow.

As Neach walked into the shooting area, his
mind and body were exponentially more weary than they had been in
days prior. The night before had not been kind to Neach, a
nightmare had plagued his thoughts and prevented even the slightest
amount of sleep. He found himself running through an open field,
away from what, he was unsure, but he was also unsure of where he
was headed. At the end of the nightmare he was awoken, as he
propelled off the edge of a cliff to his demise. This nightmare had
squandered all chances of sleep, but now he wished to ask Fenris
about it.

“Fenris, I had a nightmare last night, I was
wondering if you could explain what it meant to me,” Neach
queried.

“Ah, so they’ve started,” Fenris replied,
“tell me what it is you see.”

In detail, Neach recounted the basic
foundation of the nightmare which he remembered. His eyes grew wide
with each piece of information, highlighting the bags beneath his
eyelids.

As he came to its conclusion, Fenris simply
looked away and nodded.

“It’s normal, son, you are going through the
transition. Soon enough you will be used to it,” Fenris said.

“But, what exactly will I be getting used
to? What am I?” Neach inquired.

With a heavy sigh, Fenris prepared to answer
some of the questions he knew were bound to be swirling around
inside of Neach’s head.

“You, much like me, are a member of a
lineage of elite warriors. We hail from the House Goedwig, the only
known descendants of—wolves,” Fenris stated as a silence hushed
over the forest.

As he said this, a light rain began to fall
on the two men as they continued toward the target area.

They approached the clearing with an
exacerbated drag in their step. Not only had Neach been hit hard by
the recent training he had undergone, but Fenris was also expending
large quantities of energy daily to ensure that Neach learned
properly.

Neach picked up the bow with his now
callused hands and set his eyes on the target once more. With a
swift draw from his quiver, he fired the arrow directly into the
heart of his target. His shooting had improved tenfold since his
arrival and he now shot with the precision of a sharp knife cutting
a piece of meat. For him to miss the center of the target was
seemed as deviant; every shot was released with the speed of a
running deer trotting through the woodland.

Once he had landed three shots deep with the
flesh of the trees that stood behind the targets, Neach turned to
Fenris and asked another question.

“So, what exactly is this “House Goedwig”
you speak of? I think I’ve seen the name in the Toriik Riamendi a
few times,” Neach asked.

Fenris paused for an elongated period of
time before he hazarded the question with a response.

“You and I are not like the rest of the
world, son. We come from a bloodline, long ago descended from the
wolves which inhabit the very forests of the Kingdom you and I call
home. When the trees we see here were mere saplings, and the land
had not yet assumed its final shape, a wolf gave birth to a son in
the dead of winter. As legend tells us, this son was not a wolf,
but it bore the same features as a human being. If you believe the
tales, which I implore you do, this man then grew up in the company
of wolves until he found his way to the rest of society,” Fenris
finished with a gasp of air. His age had clearly taken its toll
upon his lungs more so than any other part of his body.

“What became of this man?” inquired
Neach.

“He lived out his life in the city we now
know as Leirwold. He found a wife and they bore three beautiful
children. He made it known of his life, and the way in which he
came into existence. From that point on, our legion has upheld the
morals and characteristics of the first members of our house. Our
duty is to serve, protect, and be invisible. The deeds which we
carry out are the ones which cannot be carried out by the normal
human. We lurk in the shadows and commit things that sometimes make
us question our beliefs, but nevertheless, we do it for the good of
our house, our destiny born in blood.”

With the explanation, Neach fell silent. His
response was something of disbelief. Not a single sound was uttered
as he stood there, bow in hand, listening to the tale be told by
Fenris. So many unbelievable things had happened since that fateful
day when he left Spleuchan Sonse. But for him, this would be one of
the most radical. He had finally learned of his true existence, how
he came to be, but the questions could not stop there.

“Come along, boy, there is still much work
to be done. That’s all the questions I’ll answer for today, if you
seek more truths, you must find them within yourself” Fenris
stated.

And with that, the two men headed off toward
the unknown, yet again. Neach followed, this time at Fenris’ side.
There was no doubt that in the weeks which had preceded today,
Neach had worked hard to gain the respect of the weary old man.
Although not very receptive at first, Fenris appeared to be taking
a liking to Neach and his attitude. He was clearly dedicated to the
cause, and the blind faith he exerted only proved that he was
deserving of his place in the House.

As they travelled across the island, Neach
saw things we had hadn’t seen previously in the secluded area he
and Fenris lived. Tall mountain peaks rose up from the ground in
correlation with the large trees that made up the island. As they
ascended higher, the trees from the ground disappeared in favor of
smaller shrubbery. The coloration of the shrubs was unlike anything
Neach had ever seen. Bright pinks and oranges filled the green
bushes with vibrant flowers that signaled the entrance of
spring.

The rain had now passed and the sweet smell
of the wet forest filled the inside of Neach’s nose. The birds had
come out to sing their songs of warmth and their sounds echoed
through the air, surrounding the two with a chorus of harmonic
ecstasy. Neach smiled to himself as he continued through the land.
He couldn’t help but be content with where he now found
himself.

For the first time in his life, he was
beginning to feel as if he actually belonged somewhere. Never in
his wildest dreams did he imagine that his place of comfort would
be on an island, accompanied by a strange old man. But the man did
not seem strange any longer; his weary disposition and wrinkled
face provided a blanket of tranquility for Neach to wrap himself
within.

They continued walking for another ten
minutes or so before they reached another separate clearing. In
this clearing sat a pole with a chain attached to its base. The
chain was stretched until it reached outside and into the long
grass. From his vantage point, Neach was unable to see what lie on
the end of the chain, but he hoped it wasn’t anything dangerous.
The progression of the training seemed to be moving toward the more
harrowing end, but Neach had hope that he would find the positives
regardless.

Fenris held his hand to his mouth and
whistled at an earsplitting tone. Neach cringed as he stood beside
him, but recovered just as quickly. From out of the tall grass
emerged a wolf, light brown in color. Its fur was scraggly and it
appeared to be as old as the trees which hung over the open area.
It walked slowly toward the clearing, as if defeated both by old
age and the chain around its neck. Its eyes drooped low, and its
sorrow could be felt deep within Neach’s soul.

It circled around the open grass a few times
before it sat quietly next to the pole. It seemed resigned to its
fate; no fight could be seen left within its old bones. Fenris
stared into the distance for a few minutes before turning toward
Neach.

“Your task today is simple: communicate with
this here wolf. He’s old and he’s sick. There’s not much hope or
time left for him, but allow him to leave this Earth in peace. As
is the way of our people, he can leave in peace with our blessing.
It is up to you to figure out this blessing before the sun sets,”
Fenris said. A single tear appeared to trickle down his right eye
as he again turned away from Neach.

He turned and began walking toward the
encampment, directly after his instructions had been administered
to Neach. For the past few days, Neach had been carrying the Toriik
Riamendi in his back satchel, as he read it in his spare time. Now,
he hoped that the ancient text could assist him in this last rites
ritual that he was meant to perform on the wolf.

With less caution than should have been
used, Neach headed in the direction of the old, beautiful,
creature. It whimpered on the ground as Neach came closer to it. He
sat down next to the weathered creature of the wood and laid his
hand upon its back. As he stroked downward, he watched as the
wolf’s eyes focused on the ground. Sullen and somber, the wolf let
out an audible cry into the depths of the forest surrounding
them.

In one fell swoop, Neach withdrew the book
from his back and began to scour the pages for any information
regarding the burial rites of wolves. His comprehension skills had
gotten better, but he was still unaware of exactly what he was
reading at times.

Hundreds of pages were sifted through
containing pictures of battles, plants, and various people who he
assumed held a position of significance within the House. He seemed
to lose himself within the beautifully illustrated borders and
pictures within the text. On the outside of the tome there lay a
picture of a wolf print, encased in silver. Its every detail was
immaculately outlined as to do the paw justice.

With a closing of his eyes, he felt the
outside of the pages and of the binding. What happened next could
only be described as a supernatural occurrence. His finger moved to
a specific portion of the book and opened. There in front of him
laid a scene of a dying wolf with a man standing over it.

Underneath the picture there was an
inscription in quotations: “Yuf dirry ger gillet nurr dirry”. He
wondered what these words meant. He still couldn’t grasp the
significance of some of the phrases within the book. As he looked
up, he saw birds circling atop the trees. The piece of the forest
he found himself in was one of the only on the island where the
canopy was thin enough to allow a plethora of sunlight in.

And so he invited the wolf to come towards
him, into the sunlight. The wolf obeyed and laid its head down on
Neach’s lap as he recited the words he saw on the page in front of
him.

“Yuf dirry ger gillet nurr dirry,” Neach
said softly into the left ear of the wolf.

But nothing happened. He examined the
picture to see what it was that the man was doing exactly.

And then he saw it.

In the man’s hand there sat a thick blade.
He was holding it against the wolf’s neck as he espoused the words
from his mouth.

It was then that Neach understood what he
was meant to do.

Earlier in the week Fenris had given Neach a
gift, to represent his procession through the training process.
This gift was a beautifully adorned knife with a blade as sharp as
anything Neach had ever used before. Its handle was encrusted with
rubies and gold leaf, and its blade had a depiction of a nature
scene carved into its metal.

The beauty of the gift was now put in
contrast with its ultimate purpose. For today, the knife would be
used to put this majestic old beast down.

He reached into the depths of his satchel
and retrieved the intricately designed weapon. It was given to him
with a thick leather sheath, and Neach had not withdrawn it until
this very moment. He ran the blade along his finger and a drip of
blood followed closely behind.

With a deep breath, he again began to stroke
the back of the large brown wolf as its head lay on his lap. Its
agony was supremely evident by the cloudy cataracts which had begun
to develop within its colorful eyes. Their purity had been
comprised, but such is the way of life. For no one can survive
without losing their innocence, no color can exist without someday
being tainted by a different hue.

Now that he knew what needed to be done,
Neach summoned up the strength to perform the maneuver. He grasped
the knife in his right hand and pressed it against the wolf’s neck
as it whimpered softly.

“Yuff dirry ger gillet nurr dirry,” he
whispered into the wolf’s ear as he increased the pressure on the
blade.

The dark crimson of the blood began to spill
out onto the forest floor as Neach sat repeating this phrase over
and over again. With a few small cries, the wolf exhaled its last
breath and slumped into eternal slumber in Neach’s arms.