The Winds of Crowns and Wolves

by K. E. Walter

  They gathered their tools and set off for home, as darkness encapsulated the valley. In the winter, the work days were much shorter in the winter, as they lacked a viable source of light to keep them working after the sun had set. It took quite a while for either brother to speak a word to the other, but eventually it was Ealar who broke the silence.

  “What do you think it means?” he asked with a puzzled look on his face. He spent the majority of the walk with a look of disdain upon his face, as he considered the significance of this rock in the middle of the field.

  “I couldn’t tell you, to be honest”, Neach offered, “maybe we should ask father.”

  With both resolved to the fact that this was the best course of action, they continued back to the village. As Asgall and Ealar had both proclaimed, this part of the day was always the worst. After a long day of demanding tasks, when all you want is a hot meal and the comfort of your bed linens, a long walk still awaits.

  It dragged on for what seems like ages, until they got to a fork, which led you in opposite directions of the town. The fork was designed to make travel easier for those who found themselves located on either side of the village. In its earliest form, it was a simple dirt cutaway which provided a guide for the weary travel, but in recent memory, stone borders had been added to provide a more distinct outline in the darkness of the night.

  Tonight seemed unusually dark, Neach thought to himself. The typical slight brightness offered by the moon lacked presence, as it was hidden behind the encroaching clouds. Enveloped in almost total darkness, Ealar and Neach suddenly realized that they had headed in the wrong direction. Bound for the other side of the village, the brothers sat down beside a tree located just off the path. The exhaustion from the day of work was taking its toll, and they decided it would be best to spend a few minutes resting.

  “So how was the cabbage looking on your side of the land,” a belabored Neach asked.

  “I always knew you were a freak,” responded Ealar.

  In utter disbelief, Neach watched as his attempt to engage in discussion with his brother turned into a hostile attack against him.

  “You always keep to yourself, you rarely smile, I always KNEW something was off about you; now it makes sense,” continued the eldest brother.

  “What do you mean I’m a freak?” asked Neach.

  “You saw that damned rock, it had your name on it, why would it have your name on it?” a volatile Ealar contested.

  Easing into the realization of the events unfolding before his eyes, Neach calmly responded to his brother with a well thought out, respectful statement.

  “Well you can go to hell then, you rat bastard!” exclaimed Neach.

  Neach attempted to retract his previous statement with a rationalized approach to what was occurring.

  “Look, we’ve seen some things today, we’re exhausted, and this is all turning into something I don’t like. Let’s put aside this bickering and figure out how we’re going to get home in this darkness.”

  In agreement, Ealar rose from the ground and looked toward the west.

  “I think it’s this way,” he proclaimed.

  Without hesitation, the brothers headed westward, hopefully toward the comfort of their own homes. Both were brooding over the day, and it was unlikely that anything else would be said for the rest of the night.

  Again, they reached the fork, and this time made the conscious decision to head in the direction they believed was that of their home. With his legs barely functioning, Neach struggled onward. Both men felt broken, emotionally and physically. There was no recovery which would sooth their ailing hearts and bodies quite as good as a long night’s sleep.

  With thoughts of warmth and comfort dancing around their minds, the brothers entered the gates of the village. A candle was lit in the window slit of their hut, and it was clear that someone remained awake inside.

  Upon entering, it became apparent that this someone was their father, Asgall.

  He sat in his chair, with a glass of mulled cider in his hand. Lacking interest in the boys, Asgall continued to peer out the window into the darkness.

  After removing their garments and slipping into their sleep clothes, the brothers returned to the center of the hut to present the predicament that they had discovered earlier. Two more chairs sat across from Asgall as he relaxed next to the fire. Ealar and Neach claimed one individually, and they prepared to approach their father.

  A short period of silence was broken by Ealar. He seemed rather lively today, despite all of the work which he had been engaging in earlier.

  “Father, we found something today,” he blurted out.

  His attention now drawn to his eldest son, Asgall turned slowly toward him and gave him a puzzled look.

  “What is it that you think you’ve found, son?” a weary Asgall questioned.

  “We found a rock, it-it had Neach’s name on it, his full name!” exclaimed Ealar.

  With an abrupt turn back toward the window, Asgall realized that this was the moment he had dreaded. It was time to tell Neach the truth.

  “Ealar, would you mind leaving your brother and I alone for a few minutes, please,” asked Asgall.

  A confused Ealar arose from his chair and quickly scampered toward his room. The stage was set now, and Asgall would need the performance of his life to recount the tale, which had been circling through his mind lately.

  Across from him sat the newly ordained man of the village. Neach’s auburn hair was disheveled and filled with dirt, and infant signs of a beard were evident underneath his jaw line. From an outsider’s perspective, this moment seemed rather calm, but from inside the hut, the tension was palpable. Heavy breathing and an uncomfortable look upon Asgall’s face told the tale enough for the curious eavesdropper, and after a period of hesitation, he began to tell the story.

  “You were only just a boy then, Neach, at my best guess a few days old at most. I went out to our plot one day, it was typical of any other day really, but then again what is typical,” rambled Asgall, “when I reached the field, a stone caught my eye across the grass from where I stood. Intrigued, I headed toward it, and when I got there, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There you sat, wrapped in a robe, fast asleep, behind a rock that bore the name ‘Coinneach’. I have thought about this moment for years now, son, and I always thought it would be easier than it is today.” The soliloquy of sorts was finished with a large sigh by the tired older man. The toil which this information had played on Asgall was evident by the bags under his eyes, as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

  To say Neach was confused would be the most understated proclamation ever made. Not sure whether he should scream, cry, or simply run away, he remained quiet and seated, as everything he had ever known about his life was shattered before his very eyes. He hadn’t had time to say anything before his legs made the decision for him.

  Away he ran, out of the house, into the darkness of the night, without a single care about the danger of the endeavor he was embarking on. Asgall held his hands on his head, as he watched his son bolt through the frame of the door and off into nothingness.

  His adrenaline was running so high that he couldn’t feel anything in his legs. He ran for what seemed like ages, until he couldn’t see the village behind him. All he wanted at this point was to leave it behind him. As if controlled by instinct, Neach headed toward a massive tree, which was found at the base of the western hill. Something was different about tonight. Though there was no light, he found himself seeing things in a way he had never seen before. Vivid colors that he had never witnessed filled his plane of sight, as he nestled himself beneath the cover of the tree.

  His breathing remained heavy for an extended period of time, and as he sat beneath the tree, he began to sob.

  He sobbed softly, with his head held in his hands, and thought of all which he had experienced in his life under the false pretense that these people were his family. It was too much to handle, he wasn’t sure how to es
cape these feelings which were permeating his very being. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, like a carnal fire had been lit within his body and was radiating outward in a flame of anger.

  He sat beneath the tree for a few minutes before he understood the imminent reality of his situation. He was unsure of where he was, and unsure of what direction to travel in. He was reserved to the options of either sleeping beneath the tree, or attempting to find his way back home from where he was at the moment.

  Before he could muster up a decision himself, he heard the peculiar rustling which he had heard only a night earlier. It sounded like a drunken animal was stumbling through a wooded area, hitting every tree as it walked past it.

  Neach’s breath coagulated in the air in front of him, the winter chill ever present, hours after the sun had set. He shivered, partially in response to the cold, and partially in response to the sobbing which had ensued earlier. Bitter cold turned his hands into frozen slabs of meat, which were about as useful as the dead plants that made up the field in front of him. He knew he’d need to make a decision and quickly, before the chill turned into something more serious.

  Just as he was about to head off in the direction of his home, he heard the rustling again. His head snapped around in an astonishingly quick fashion, and attempted to locate the source of the noise. An unsuccessful effort, he once again began moving toward the comfort of his home. Memories of the night which had previously passed danced around in his head like a tribal ceremony, and they prevented him from maintaining clear thoughts.

  It was then that he heard the strange noise for a third time, much closer to his location. He froze in place, a product of the temperature and the fear which was captivating him. It felt as if a cold breath was being exhaled on his neck, and the hairs on his back stood up. Slowly, and with extreme caution, Neach turned his body around to face the imminent danger.

  What stood before him shocked and comforted him in the strangest way. It was another wolf, yet this time, its eyes glowed purple in the night. The eyes were so radiant that they provided a lantern of sorts for Neach to see the ground around it. Differently from the last encounter he had, Neach felt at ease in its presence. It did not approach him, or make a sound; it simply trotted around him and ran into the darkness. What was left behind was an iridescent trail that illuminated itself through something that was reminiscent of a spider web. It was at this point that Neach decided what he was going to do: follow that trail.

  IV

  It wasn’t unusual for roosters to crow so late in the morning. In fact, the way the weather had been this winter, it wouldn’t have been surprising to find out that they had fallen off and died in the night from the cold.

  Neach laid in bed, warm and comfortable. He tossed and turned on occasion, but was, for the most part, in a deep sleep most of the night. He dared not budge at the first shimmer of sunlight in the morning.

  When his eyes finally opened, he let out a yawn. The yawn seemed to make his entire body shudder as he exhaled the exhaustion which had plagued him the night earlier.

  Ah yes, the night earlier.

  “What happened?” he wondered aloud.

  As he recounted the events of the previous night, it all seemed so overwhelming. First, his father had revealed to him that he was not his true son. The pain of this news was so great that it drove Neach out of the house and into the wilderness, in the dead of the night.

  While Neach wandered the forest alone, he experienced something rather strange. Another wolf approached him, and restrained itself from attacking. In fact, not only did it refrain from attacking him, it provided a path back to his home from the tree he sat under. This was no ordinary path, either; it was an illuminated path that the wolf seemed to lay behind itself as it walked.

  With the guidance of the glowing path, Neach strolled into his hut during the wee hours of the morning. He did not wake his parents, nor his brother; he simply slipped into his bed and went to sleep.

  His body had been aching after the toll it had undertaken throughout the day. Remarkably, this morning Neach felt in good spirits. Although the idea of his parents deceiving him for all of this time still rolled about in his head, he felt rejuvenated. He felt as if he had slept for an entire week, in the most comfortable linens possible.

  The warmth in his room was refreshing after the cold of the night prior. The struggle to remove himself from his bed was evident and it took a fair amount of time for it to happen. Once he had sat himself up, he was forced to approach the situation at hand. He had left his home, after finding the truth from his father, and bolted into the wilderness. Surely there would be explaining necessary, as his parents must have worried sick about his wellbeing.

  He casually put on clothes and lifted himself from his bed, while he moved toward the door. The door careened open and swung with a fury he had never seen before. It slammed into the wall behind it, and shook the glassware with a harsh “thud”. Upon leaving his room, he saw his family situated at the table in the living space, all looking up at him, as he entered the room.

  The silence was palpable; all parties involved not willing to compromise whatever position it was that they felt they had. The first to break the silence was the stoic figure who was seated farthest away from Neach.

  “So, where did ye run off to last night, son?” inquired Asgall, the tension supremely evident in his voice.

  Neach thought for a moment before he offered any explanation. What did he owe these people? This façade of a family had led him astray down the path of life for the better part of two decades. There was no incentive to let them in anymore. However, he appeased their desires and attempted to construct a detailed version of the events which had taken place the night previous.

  “I went out to the fields,” he stated, “I thought it was better than starting a fight.”

  Lines of worry had sought residence in each family member’s face, and the harrowing night before was evident from the exhausted looks that were maintained.

  “We tried to find you,” a tired Ealar said, “where did you go, Neach? You can’t go running off like that!” His anger increased with each sentiment, and it threatened to coalesce into a full blown rage.

  Although he and Neach were only a few months separate in age, as the eldest brother, it was his responsibility to maintain a healthy familial environment.

  Neach was unsure of what to say next. Unaware of the coming repercussions for his actions, he simply stood there, staring blankly at the wall.

  It was his father who came to his rescue.

  “Come with me son,” Asgall demanded, in a passive manner.

  His father had a way of hiding his emotions on most occasions, but this time things were different.

  Asgall guided Neach out the door of the hut and along the path which was located outside. The sun was shining today, and it seemed that maybe winter was easing its grasp on the valley. Birds could be heard chirping, but their location was something that only they knew. The sounds of nature encapsulated the two men, as they journeyed through the village.

  Just about on the outskirts of town, there was a small collection of chairs. When the weather was nice, the townspeople would venture here to play music, or simply engage in thoughtful discussion. This was the case today.

  His father knew that both he and his son had explaining to do. It would be unfair for him to realize that if he hadn’t held this secret in for so long that maybe Neach wouldn’t have run off.

  In the calm, comforting nature he always exerted, Asgall begin the discourse with his son, hoping that he could validate any worry he may have felt.

  “Ye know, it was difficult for me as well” he began.

  “Watching you grow up, never knowing how I would be able to tell you the truth. You see son, there’s things in life that we cannot control. Finding you abandoned in that field is one of those things. However, I wouldn’t change it for the world. You’ve grown into a fine young man, and I want you to know that regard
less of our blood relationship, you are, in fact, my son.”