by K. G. Wilkie
He groaned at the sight of them, but knew it would do no good to try to run or hide at this point. As they closed in he quickly sat down in the middle of a clearing only a few paces ahead. “If you want to talk to me, please sit. If you want to fight, some other arrangements will obviously have to be made,” he challenged.
They easily surrounded him in the small clearing. They emerged, a mass of tanned men with lupine eyes and carrying wolf pelts.
They quickly surrounded him and peeled off their wolf pelts to reveal their growling humanoid faces. “So you skin your own kind,” the boy prodded them. “Wouldn’t expect better from animal types like you.”
“Stupid human,” a man with a raspy voice and golden pelt growled at him, “Have your wizard elders taught you nothing?” Darien scowled at repeated diatribe against his elders even as his ears turned red at the reminder of how little he knew. “You think we change our forms at the magic shift? These are our own furs,” he pointed at his hide, “ Same as this is my own skin,” then gestured at his naked torso and rough linen slacks. The other wolves muttered among themselves about this ignorant outsider and shared dark looks.
A young man in the back yipped. “We could store our fur in some space between spaces that we could access on the original, but this space has been cut off from us in the Shadeworld.” Those surrounding him converged on him, and the bodies pressing down on him served to silence him.
“Will the Alpha allow such insolence,” Darien asked curiously.
“He is young,” that man responded. “If he must speak out, it is good that he does so honestly,”? this with great affection. “You would do well to learn from that,” he jibbed at the listening wizard.
“Besides, your people waste skins and meats in your magic rituals as even the strongest of your kind is too weak to enact any significant spell through your own power, so we will hear no more ridicule from one of the weakest of your race, ribbonless.” The others outright guffawed at this jab at his stature, as it was well known even the lowest rank of wizard had trims of his status on his uniformed robes and the boy’s clothes were conspicuously bare.
Another wolf cut in, muttering, “He is a ribbonless, so I`m not sure he even counts as a wizard.” Those surrounding him laughed, silencing only when their elder glared at them for their conduct. Darien himself blushed as well. In the Domed City, the wizards all wore robes to denote their ranks. Yellow robes denoted scribes, green showed a military man or strategist, blue represented a burocrat, silver represented a government official, brown a merchant of some sort. The majority of the scribes, however, had red scholar robes. Ribbons trimmed the ends of these garments on the sleeves as well as the hem to show how advanced the bearer was in the social hierarchy. Though children were generally raised by their witch mothers for the first five or so years of their lives, any male children would be sent off to the domed city for an apprenticeship once they turned six.
“I’m not- look here, I’m not even in my robes right now!” The boy protested the barbs but it made no difference. They all knew any ranked wizards would work the trims into their clothes in some form or another even if they were in casual duds or undercover in some other peoples’ territory. Those who were not chosen as an apprentice to any man in the society would not receive even the minimal apprentice trim. These were the janitors, the scut workers. Only children below apprenticeship age or failures would be barred from sporting any trims, and children that were favored by their teachers would have some brightly colored buttons on their shirt to denote their master’s hopes for their future prestige. Darien was clearly of age or close to it, old enough to show any promise he might have had. It was obvious to anyone who understood the ways of the wizards that he was both a child and a failure, a terrible combination indeed.
“You seem to have lost your way regardless, wizard child,” their leader spoke once the laughter had died down. “You are many countries away from the domed city, and many months away from mating season so you can have no cause to be here. I suppose you could be breaking the laws of your people to visit some lady witch outside of the regulated time,” here the leader grinned mischievously, “Though I do not think you are old enough to pursue the ladies as you can claim to be both ribbonless and beardless.” The horde around them, no longer capable of containing their mirth to any extent, now roared with laughter that echoed through the rattling dry leaves.
The beard itself was also a symbol among wizards, pointing to the bearer`s seniority, as well as the belief that the bearer had wisdom in accordance with the length of his beard. Those who could not grow a beard of any length were considered to be children and treated as such, even if a man was crippled and grey but still had no facial hair.
When there was a break the leader continued again. “But then, I wonder what you are doing in my territory.” The others in the clearing gave a communal growl, the sound sending the hairs on the back of Darien`s neck up in alarm. “If you are indeed a child, you are far from your guardians, and it would be my job to send some escorts with the purpose of ensuring your safe return to your home.” Darien grimaced in distaste. “If, however, you are indeed an adult, you are an intruder, and the penalty for intruding is death. So, if you are clearly not here on errands for your city, and not here to visit any ladies, then the question remains why you are trespassing through my woods without my leave. If you answer this question to my satisfaction I may allow you to leave here alive.” The words were icy, and now the pack was beyond humor once more and instead growled and snapped at the lad.
Darien scoffed, brushing such conercerns aside. “I appreciate the concern, old man,” he said, blasé. The others growled again, their pride affronted, but their leader hushed them with a glance. Darien stared them all down. Then he shrugged. “It’s of no great importance why I’m here, and it doesn’t particularly concern you anyways.” He paused at another growl and lost some of his composure. My presence here is really a shortcut to get to my goal, at the South of the forest.” “My presence here is mainly by accident anyways. I was just around the neighborhood to settle some disputes with that bastard prince.” He paused thoughtfully. “And the illegitimate crown prince as well I suppose,” he added with a crazed gleam in his eyes. Darien had assumed the pack would resent the dragon’s gains of territory and power, but it was clear he had misjudged his audience. The leader joined in the growling this time as well. He jumped, flinging on his skin and sharped claw at Darien`s throat within the second.
The boy hastily continued, “I was just thinking that, since my errands have brought me to this area anyways, I could bother those dratted vamps some for you,” he lied with a crafty evaluation of his audience’s allegiances. There was a public gasp of appreciation, and the elder replaced his human skin and form, letting go of his victim`s throat. “Though I won`t lay a finger on them if you`d rather support your fanged…friends, if you choose to help them by disposing of little pesky me while you are at it then I guess there’s no helping it,” he baited his audience and pretended to a carefree tone.
“We would doubtless enjoy your contributions. As you aware, direct hassling is now prohibited by the Prince Royal.” Their audience grumbled about the pains of such restrictions. “What are your primary aims in this forest, though?”
Darien smiled. “Well, I`m here for the same reason so many young people troop through The Great Woods,” he began. “I was just planning to settle some battles, defeat some disturbances, make a name for myself from some time adventuring. It’s a very respectable pastime, don’t you agree? And doubtless after all of this I will earn some ribbons for myself at that.” Well he knew that his only true aim in the woods was to wreak havoc against the plans of both princes and support the great mission the domed city elders had given him, but from their leap to kill him earlier when he’d mentioned some of his true purpose he knew it was against his benefit to be particularly honest with the pack. And if he weren’t completely honest, what of it? It was at least partially true that he want
ed status and adventure, and being upfront about the minutiae wasn’t very important to him if an excess of honesty would end with claws in his jugular.
Calculating thoughts rolled through his head rapidly, and finally he grinned up at them without missing a beat. “The pursuit of status is very respectable, don’t you agree? That is why I am meeting you friends now, after all,” he said. He had dug up some manners from somewhere within himself, and was employing them for the first time after a long rest. They seemed to be rusty, but the old man was simply smiling once more.
The wolves looked at each other with worry and whispered among themselves. Their leader sighed. “I do not find your words to be very honest,” he stated. He looked around at his wolves. “However, I can see where this is going,” he added quietly.
“Fine,” he boomed. “I can see the merit in your rhetoric,” the old man responded. “I will grant your desires.” The group huddled closer together, kneeling formally on the ground in a perfectly aligned circle. “I, Degorrin son of Raulynn, give you free passage on our to lands, for the purpose of travel and aggravating the pallid race. If you lend our enemies assistance in any manner, your life is forfeit for your trespassing and cheek. If I discover you have lied about your purpose here, your life is forfeit. If I decide I don’t like you, your life is forfeit. Be sure to play the rules and not cause any trouble that would upset my pack, because as far as I am concerned your sentence was execution as soon as we came upon you and you only leave us with your neck intact because my pack is generous and decided to allow your journey, but if you at any time make any of us reconsider that decision I consider your life forfeit.” There was a rumble of assent from the assembled pack. “I, alpha of the pack, have spoken. It will be so.”
The wolves relaxed into happy boneless forms and lounged scattered around the clearing. Having decided to allow Darien passage, they were now happy and chipper starting a campfire and getting a grand noon time feast prepared for their guest. Somewhere in the bustle the young wizard had ended up seated next to the alpha of the pack, who was surprisingly a fascinating conversationalist when he wasn’t trying to kill trespassers.
“You say I have cheek, but they were giggling and talking like a herd of teen girls,” Darien said, amused.
Degorrin smiled at him and produced a flask of some cherry colored liquid and two cups, pouring and serving for the teen who politely accepted. He wrinkled the nose as the foul bitterness overwhelmed his senses, but he said not a word of complaint.
“Ah, but they are young,” the elder smiled. “Though not nearly as young as you,” he added with a chuckle. Darien gave him a sour look but said nothing. “I think that part of their impudence comes from having an Alpha like me, though,” the man continued. “When I was young, every thought that ever appeared in my head tumbled right out of my mouth at the same instant.”
“How did you ever become alpha, then? I would think your elders would have chosen someone more dignified than you,” he asked curiously.
“I ascended through virtue,” the man said. “Virtue of being older than dirt!” They both laughed.
“You don’t seem very old. Your face looks middle aged at worst,” Darien protested. The elder just shrugged and explained that the aging of their race was a very different process from that of humans, and assured him that when his time came his appearance would rapidly degenerate to his true wizened age when he was first placed in his burial mound.
It was a sad topic, but somehow the both of them continued to laugh throughout at the assistance of the alpha’s wry humor.
Some younger wolves on the other side of the fire had shifted to their lupine forms and frolicked until some of them accidentally stumbled into the fire. The alpha moved away to scold them as another wolf treated their wounds, but his punishment was light and his fierce words were ruined by the twinkle in his eye and gentle pats he gave the whimpering younguns during the sting of applying disinfectant.
When he came back to his seat the young wizard smirked at him.“You really seem to like those whippersnappers, old man,” Darien smiled.
“They remind me of when I was younger, and they keep me young.” His craggy face broke into another grin of his own. “I need all the help I can get!”
They drank in silent for a few minutes, now completely at ease in each other`s company. The sun dipped in the sky, and they both went to stand up. They both groaned as their numb muscles protested their long stillness and sudden movement.
“It is time that you continue your journey.” The old man spoke. Darien marveled anew at the odd contrast between the wizened voice and the vitally youthful visage before him.
Darien looked at the ground. “I`d kind of like to stay, and, umm, chat for awhile,” he blushed. The old man squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.
“I still am not satisfied you have shared your true purpose, but I am now content that I have your measure and that you will not hurt me and mine. That said you still have something of great importance to do or you would not have braved meeting us. It is time you went ahead and set to your task.
He clapped the young man on the back. “We must each move onto the next phase,” he said. “This does not mean that we may never return, and we may find along our paths new people to return to.”
Darien smirked, chuckling. “You got that from some book, didn`t you?” he demanded. The old man blushed in return. “That doesn`t mean it`s wrong,” he defended, sounding like the goofy child he had purported to long ago being. Darien smiled, agreeing.
“I guess I should walk on, so I can find the place I`ll return to after this.” They smiled at each, feeling united and fond of each other. Darien walked along the path once more, each step taking him further away from his warm repartee. Looking back, he smiled and waved, noticing the man waving at him from the spot they had left. Then as one the pack got up and gathered all their supplies in a flurry of movement. In the next blink of an eye they faded into the forest as a group with gleaming yellow eyes and human skins slung over their furry shoulders.
He looked forward again and continued energetically. He felt as though he understood what he was doing, and his fresh send off on this leg of his quest left him feeling warm. He continued on, excited at the thought of returning soon to this feeling of home.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Darien Confesses
Darien continued into the forest, hitting the middle of the road at Midday. A pair of vampires, invisible with their sheer speed, stopped abruptly in front of him. “This is so not fair,” Darien groaned. “I just managed to avoid being in the wolfie stewpot and turned that around and now I have to deal with these yahoos.”
“You there!” Daerick called. “What business have you in the respected territory of the Pallid Race?”
“Catchy,” Cillean muttered under his breath. “With a name like that our whole civilization sounds like a ridiculous circus act of sick people.”
“I have no business with mere soldiers,” Darien said. He sneered at the two with clear distaste. “I`m on a mission of my own. If you must know,” he continued, nose in the air, “I am traveling along this road because that’s exactly what roads were made for.”
Daerick glared at him, holding his sword in its holster. “Speak now of your business, and I shall not be forced to disembowel you. If you insist on stubbornness, however, I can assure you there will be consequences” he growled. The two bristled looking at each other.
Darien had a flash of inspiration. His ears pulled back as he began his tale. “I suppose I can tell you,” he began, “I happen to have some business with the wolf shifters in the North. I was simply passing through to collect some supplies from your people`s Kitsch Caravans marketplace in preparation for a raid of a sort.
“A raid,” Cillean asked quietly.
“Yes,” Darien responded, modulating his voice to to tell the tale perfectly dramatically. “I plan to avenge my sister. She fell in love with one of the younger wolves, and shared a relationship of som
e time. But, alas, her affections were doomed to be spurned! It is so tragic,” he sniffed pitifully. However, little drops of sweat fell off his forehead. He had taken a gamble, hoping that these two would share the hatred of werewolves, and be blinded enough by that hatred enough to also be blinded to the glaring plot holes in his story. All he could hope was that they would remain oblivious, and that the old man Degorrin wouldn`t hear any of his falsehoods and get angry. Or even, he thought, he might simply not invite me to visit again, and it would be a little disappointing to never have a picnic again in the future. His neck was potentially on the line though, so it was a potential loss he was willing to face if the alternative was a slow death by vampire feeding.
Daerick growled deep in his throat. “Lies,” he spat.
Cillean restrained his friend, though his battle pose was no less deadly. “Nice try, spy,” he grinned. The gesture bared his teeth and was more threatening than comforting. “Unfortunately, you`ve ratted yourself out.” Darien looked at him with some trepidation.
“Some tribes have found peace between each other. The vampires of this forest hold no ill will towards the werewolves,” Daerin said.
“That can’t be right,” Darien exclaimed. “I just talked to them today and they didn’t like you lot at all!” He looked at the other two and saw their smirks and realized he’d revealed his own lies.
“Bummer for you, taking that tack with us,” Cillean said. “You`ve been chatting with your supposed enemies, apparently. Makes one doubt that any of your tall tales have a grain of truth. The wolves still love to play their tricks and rope others into their pranks but there is peace on both sides in this region. You have just said you plan to hunt our allies down, which makes you our enemy, or you lied which would just make me want to gut you faster.”
