Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf

by A. E. McCullough

  “You have done well. I am proud of you.”

  Pausing briefly, the inflection in his tone became gentler. “And so would Red Crow. Now, you face the difficult decisions of who must stay and who must go. But those decisions can wait for tomorrow. Finish your appointments and celebrate this night with your War Council and the whole tribe. Everyone needs hope and you are the only one who can give it to them. So, enjoy this time. There will be time enough to worry tomorrow.”

  Nodding his head, Hawkeye saw the wisdom in his uncle’s words. Turning back, the assembled warriors were beginning to calm down on their own.

  Raising his hands, Hawkeye yelled. “My friends, you are all very special to me and I would like to officially appoint each of you as members of my War Council. Please, come forward and receive a small token of my trust that will act as a symbol of your position.”

  The gathered warriors formed a line and slowly, each in turn pledged their loyalty to Luna and Hawkeye. Anasazi placed a headband of one red feather with blackened tips on each of their foreheads. Hawkeye was just about to dismiss the War Council when there was a commotion at the entrance to the lodge.

  There was a yelp of pain and the scent of burning hair wafted through the curtain that blocked the entrance.

  The War Council’s spirits quickly changed from smiles to grim looks of determination as each warrior readied a weapon, took a defensive position and waited.

  Chapter 25

  Tatianna spent the two days following Red Crow’s death mourning his loss and accepting the fact that she was now his heir. Being his heir gave Tatianna the rights to his lodge, his belongings and theoretically, his place on the Great Council.

  Since the reality of his death was still too painful for her to face, she retreated into her magic. With eyes closed and legs crossed, Tatianna sat in front of her fire meditating. With her mind’s eye she searched through the uncounted multitudes of strands that were the Weave.

  Each strand radiated a slightly different color; some were a brilliant gold, while others were as black as midnight, some even had a rainbow effect and all were different and unique. Each strand represented a different component or implication of magic that could be woven into any given spell. The more skillful the weaver, the more advanced the spell.

  While Tatianna’s elven heritage implied and imparted a certain degree of dexterity into her weaving, it didn’t tell the true extent of her ability. Tatianna had chosen the path of a Bladeweaver, an honorable and highly respected profession in the elven lands but to an elf the most honored position one could attain was that of a true Weaver. Very few individuals had the necessary gifts, aptitudes and drive to give their lives over to the pursuit of weaving magic. The few who passed the rigid tests were admired and revered by all.

  Tatianna’s mother had wanted that path for her. Though Tatianna had the natural gifts and aptitude, she lacked the desire. She was always out tromping through the forests with her older brothers instead of studying. When it came time for the ‘Tests of Passage’ her brothers had done well, passing the entire test with flying colors; all but the last section, the area that tested their ability with magic and their natural aptitude toward magic. To be honest, the twins came close but not close enough for the Master Weavers who oversaw the training of the true Weavers. So, they chose the path of the Bladeweavers. Her oldest brother, Khlekluëllin chose the Way of the Dragon, an ancient style of bladeweaving; while Mortharona chose the Way of the Panther, a more subtle and surreptitious style.

  When it came time for Tatianna’s test, she blew right through them. She scored higher on every test than any elf on record, including those of the Master Weavers. The whole court was busy whispering the praises of her skill and aptitude. When the day of her choosing came, the murmurs of joy became the sly whispers of scandal as she followed her mother and brothers onto the path of the Bladeweaver. She chose the oldest style of Bladeweaving that only a few elves had the skill and patience to learn, the Way of the Eagle. Elven legends state this was the first ‘Way of the Blade’ taught to her followers by Aurora herself and named for her favorite messenger, the eagle.

  The whole Elven community was stunned at Tatianna’s choice. Some even thought her choice to be disloyal and disrespectful. They couldn’t believe she would ignore the queen’s wishes and waste Aurora’s gifts. A brief smile flickered across Tatianna’s face as she remembered her mother’s words on that day so many years ago.

  ‘It is true that Aurora gave us these gifts to serve her but didn’t she also give us a heart and a mind? What good are these gifts, if the heart does not lead us? What good are these gifts, if the mind does not inspire us? None, I say. If my daughter wishes to follow the Way of the Eagle on the Path of the Blade, then I willingly give her my blessing and in turn grant her Aurora’s blessings.’

  She remembered feeling pride in her mother’s words. She knew it then and still felt it now, that her choice was the right one for her. Pausing in her weaving, she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. A slight chirp came from above her doorway. Turning her head, Tatianna looked at her new friend and companion. “What was that Dûrdae?”

  The shadowhawk seemed to understand her as it chirped again, tilting its head to one side.

  “Am I done?” She shook her head slowly. “No, but I am getting close. This is a very complicated spell I’m working on. If I do it right, it will only affect the followers of Blackfang. If I don’t get it right, it could affect every Highlander.”

  Reaching into a small bowl that sat at her side, she tossed a small piece of raw meat into the air. It never hit the ground. It didn’t even reach the apex of its upward motion, so quick was Dûrdae in his snatch and gulp. He chirped his thanks as he began to clean his claws.

  Laughing slightly, Tatianna scolded her friend. “Now, behave yourself. I’m getting to a very delicate part of the spell and I don’t need any interruptions.”

  Dûrdae gave her one last squawk, before turning back to the task of cleaning his claws. Closing her eyes, Tatianna reentered her trance. Surrounding her was the immense spell she was weaving. Taking a moment to study it, she grinned at her accomplishment.

  Her spell had three major sections just as she had been taught in the Academia, the Elven Halls of Magic. The three sections were known as the alpha, the sigma and the omega. She had completed the first two sections and was just beginning the third section before her brief break. Now, she was getting to the most delicate part, the omega section.

  The alpha section is the one of the first things a fledgling spell weaver learns. It consists of the basics of the spell; how it would be cast, duration, range, etc. This section is the closest thing to being a standard part of each spell woven. While each school or style of spellweaving had its own distinct style of building a spell, the basics are all the same. No one way of weaving is superior over another; it’s just a matter of preference and limitations.

  The sigma section defines the actual spell’s effects and side effects. This is where the parameters of the spell are defined. Will it be an offensive or defensive spell? Will it be a lightning bolt or a ball of fire? For most spells this is the largest section, as it contains the ‘meat’ of the spell.

  The last section woven would be the omega section. Here’s where the personality of the weaver comes out in the spell. What is the color of the effects, red or blue? Will the effects smell like roses or lilacs? It could be anything. Most simple spells really didn’t need the omega section, all of the actual components of the spell being in the first two sections but the goddess of magic required an omega section on all spells for them to work. Therefore, most spell weavers created their own generic omega signature which caused all spells cast by them to have the same general special effects, their own personal signature.

  But the omega section could also be the most difficult section of a spell. It could be woven in such a way that the spell only affects a single individual or a group of people or it could cause the spell not to take effect
for hundreds of years. It could be anything, for good or bad.

  Tatianna had spent the better part of the last two days weaving the sigma section and she was pleased with her efforts. She had always had an uncanny knack for weaving that section. But since her meeting with the gods, her skill at weaving was even more fluid and natural.

  She wondered about that for a moment. ‘Would I have tried something like this before that meeting?’

  Shaking her head, she looked down at her stomach. She could just barely see the briefest hint of her pregnancy.

  ‘Probably not but I have met with the Moraie and they have given me their blessings, therefore I’ve got to do what I must to safeguard my son’s life for his safety and the whole of Terreth.’

  Once again she studied the weave she had already completed. It was as fine a weave as she had every made. It was a carefully woven curse that would punish her opponents and their offspring. It was designed to prevent any and all highlanders from shape shifting, causing them to be stuck in whatever form they were in when the spell takes effect. Now came the tricky part, tailoring the spell just to affect the followers of Blackfang.

  ‘That shouldn’t be too hard,’ she thought. ‘I know a lot about you Blackfang. I will have my revenge on you yet, one way or the other.’

  Reaching into one of the bowls laid out on the ground around her, she picked up the tattered remains of her blue silk scarf. It was stained with dark patches of dried blood. Holding the scarf over the fire, she threw in a handful of white powder. The fire roared to life. As the flames reached the top of her tipi, the animal skins that created the roof and sides of her tipi smoldered slightly.

  In the back of her mind, she heard a small voice saying, ‘If you moved into Red Crow’s lodge like he wanted you too, you wouldn’t have to worry about catching the tipi on fire.’

  Turning her mind back to the task at hand, she returned to the intricate weaving of the omega section. She was using the blood on the scarf to help focus the spell. The stained scarf held remnants of Hawkeye’s, Blackfang’s and her blood. The trick was to tie the spell to the correct blood and not the incorrect ones. The only way Tatianna knew how to be sure it was the correct blood stain was to trace the hundreds of strands that would stick to each patch of blood as she passed it through the Weave. She knew that somewhere in that mess of strands would be the one that would lead her to Blackfang. Once she knew his strand, she would be able to tailor the spell to him and his followers.

  She didn’t move for several hours being deeply involved in her spell weaving. Dûrdae having finished cleaning his claws hours earlier was asleep on his perch. He bolted awake with a loud squawk as the young girl Amani rushed in without knocking.

  “Mistress Tatianna! Mistress Tatianna!” the young girl yelled as she flung herself at Tatianna.

  Startled out of her trance by the sudden intrusion, Tatianna dropped the silken scarf into the fire. The flames hungrily ate the delicate scarf. Tatianna lunged for the scarf but she was too late. The flames roared to life as they quickly consumed it. Turning to face the young girl, Tatianna’s sharp retort died on her lips when she saw the young girl’s face. It was filled with worry and concern. It looked as if the young girl had not slept for days.

  Enveloping the young girl in her arms Tatianna asked, “What is it Amani? What’s wrong?”

  Amani said, “It’s my father…he hasn’t returned from his patrol.”

  Holding the young girl at arm’s length, she studied her face. Amani had been crying. Judging by the rings under her eyes and at how red they were Tatianna guessed that she had been crying off and on for almost two days. With everyone mourning over Red Crow, they had missed the grief of one small child.

  “Whoa! Back up. Let’s start from the top. When did he leave and when was he due back?”

  Taking several deep breaths, Amani wiped a stray tear away. “My father left on the night of the Tsanahwit. At the Wolflord’s request, he was leading a patrol south to check on the lookouts near the Fortress. He was due back two days ago.”

  Placing a hand on her shoulder, Tatianna forced a small smile. “Maybe the weather has delayed him?”

  Tears beginning to flow again, Amani shook her head. “No. He promised he would be back by the night of the first moon. That was last night and he hasn’t returned. He would never be late unless something bad had happened to him.”

  Pulling Amani close, Tatianna embraced her in a deep hug. She felt the side of her neck become wet with Amani’s tears but she didn’t mind nor did she let go. This was the best thing she could do for the young girl right now. After several minutes, Amani broke the embrace and wiped the remaining tears from her face.

  Tatianna said, “I tell you what. Let’s go see Hawkeye and you can tell him what you’ve told me. I’m sure he can locate your father.”

  Amani shook her head. “I’ve already tried to see him but he is in a meeting with his War Council. He is not to be disturbed.”

  Tatianna’s crooked smile flashed across her face as she stood quickly. “I’ll bet he’ll see me!”

  Walking out of her tipi, she made a beeline to the Lodge of the Moon. The snow was only about a foot deep but the wind was bitterly cold. Amani hurried after her, catching up to Tatianna just as she reached the Lodge. Before the ladies could enter, two braves stepped out of the shadows.

  Barring their entrance with crossed spears, one of the braves spoke to them in a tone that was less than friendly. “Entrance to the Lodge of the Moon is restricted to only members of the War Council. Be gone!”

  Taken slightly aback at the rudeness of the brave, Tatianna paused in mid-stride. Thinking they might not recognize her, she flashed them a dazzling smile and threw back her cloak. “I am Red Eagle, daughter of Red Crow and the betrothed of the Wolflord. I need to speak to him immediately.”

  The braves glanced at each other briefly. One of them shook his head, before the speaker turned back to the two ladies. “I am sorry Red Eagle, you cannot pass. Only members of the War Council are allowed inside and you are not a member of it. Now, be off with you!”

  Tatianna felt her cheeks grow flush with anger as several spells came to mind, any one of them could’ve forced the braves to let them enter. Her right hand clenched tightly into a fist, while her left rested causally on the hilt of her magical blade, the Moonsword. The guards must’ve recognized her anger and realized they had gone too far as they abruptly took a couple of steps back.

  Stepping up to the brave who had been talking to her, she poked him in the chest with her finger. “Now you listen to me, you scurrilous son of a troll! I don’t know who you think you are but I am Tatianna Amarth, Bladeweaver of Aurora and the mother of the Chosen One. I was entrusted with his life by the gods themselves and I will be damned if I let a bastard like you keep me from his father!”

  Pausing for a brief moment, she flipped her long hair over her left shoulder. “Besides, Red Crow made me his heir which gives me the right to his seat on the Great Council if I choose to take it and due to your rudeness, I think I will take his seat on the Great Council; if for no other reason than to see that the both of you are punished for your behavior!”

  It was obvious her words shocked the two guards. Their faces had turned ashen white and their spears dipped all the way to the ground. As Tatianna stepped toward the lodge’s entrance, the extremely rude guard made a slight move to bar her way once more. Reaching out with one hand, he grabbed her shoulder roughly and regretted it the moment he touched her.

  Tatianna touched the warrior lightly on his chest and said, “Electra!”

  White sparks of lightning coursed through her body and into the young brave. She was immune to the spell’s effects but he wasn’t. The electrical shock made his body jerk and flail about, dropping his weapons and causing him to urinate on himself. Releasing him from the spell, the unfortunate guard fell to the ground unconscious. The brief odor of burning hair assaulted her nose. Ignoring it and the fallen guard, she turned to the ot
her guard who was frozen in place with undisguised horror.

  Flashing him her sweetest smile Tatianna asked, “Now, will you announce me or should I walk in by myself?”

  The guard quickly pulled back the curtain that blocked the entrance and with a sweeping motion of his hand he said, “After you Red Eagle.”

  Tatianna shook her head. “No, after you.”

  The guard hesitated for just a moment, unsure of what to do. Tatianna shifted her stance slightly, allowing the guard a quick glance at his companion who was lying face down in the snow behind her. That made his mind up for him. Turning, he entered the lodge with the ladies right behind him but froze in mid-step as he was confronted with the armed and readied War Council. Tatianna almost bumped into him as he stopped so abruptly.

  Pushing him aside roughly, Tatianna stepped boldly into the room. “Greetings honored members of the War Council. I am Red Eagle, daughter of Red Crow, betrothed of Hawkeye the Wolflord and mother to the Chosen One. Red Crow appointed me as his heir to his position and property. I come to claim his position on the Great Council and in turn, the War Council.”

  The War Council visibly relaxed their positions and looked around at each other in amazement. No one really knew what to think. Here was this outsider, a female and an elf, laying claim to one of the most honored positions a Highlander could attain. Never in the history of the Highland Nation had an outsider or a woman been allowed a seat on the Great Council.

  Hawkeye spoke up. His voice was less than friendly, holding a slight tone of disapproval. “Greetings Red Eagle, you are late. This council meeting started hours ago.”

  A slight crooked smile crossed her face as she bowed her head low. “My apologies Wolflord, I was deeply involved with my magic creating a spell to attack our enemies with. It will not happen again.”

  Hawkeye kept his tone flat and emotionless. “See to it! It is disrespectful to me and the rest of the War Council. Step forward!”