The Winds of Crowns and Wolves

by K. E. Walter

  As Neach crouched into the hut and climbed into his bed, his thoughts were jumbled into a collection of fragmented ideas. He had killed animals before; it was part of growing up in an agrarian community. This was much different than anything else he had ever experienced. There was a tangible connection between himself and this wolf. He had a hunger to ask more questions and probe Fenris for answers, but part of him felt that it was more appropriate if he let it be for the time being.

  In the morning he would search for answers within the hallowed pages of the ancient tome which he had grown so close to, but for now, his bed beckoned for him to retire to the comfort of his linens: and so he did.

  XI

  Emotionally, Neach was spent. He awoke early in the morning, but he lacked the motivation to rise from his bed and begin his day. Hours passed before he removed his linens and got dressed. After what felt like a fulfilling period of rest, Neach still felt sapped. His energy seemed to elude him as he went about the chores of the camp.

  For weeks now, Neach had tended to the water supply and the collection of fruit for their consumption later in the day. These items on his agenda seemed to drag on today; all he desired was to read more from the book.

  Hours after his departure from the hut, he returned bearing fruit and water. The harvest was plentiful today, and his bucket ran over with the colorful sustenance that is the fruit of the forest. He placed them before Fenris’ feet and continued toward his lodging without uttering a single word. Fenris understood this attitude, as it was similar to his own, when he first learned of his House.

  Into the hut Neach delved, and immediately withdrew the book from his bag. Its pages had become slightly tattered in the recent days as he began to use it more. Its color seemed impervious to the forces of nature, as it remained elegant and sharp for what could only be perceived as many years.

  He opened the book to the page he had left it on, where he had learned of the method at which wild wolves are put to rest. As he ran his finger across the words below the picture, it was translated into terms which he could understand. What had once read “Yuf dirry ger gillet nurr dirry”, now read “Into the darkness you step.”

  Less surprised by the revelation of the text, and more concerned with the new found ability to translate the text with the tip of his finger, Neach began to ravage the book with the newly found powers of his index.

  For hours, he sat on his bed and deciphered a multitude of excerpts. There were tales that detailed the creation of the world, the creation of the creatures that roamed it, the first members of the House, and a section about what it meant to be a House member.

  Their creed appeared simple: Do what is righteous, do what is just, do what you can, but above all, do what you must. The melodic structure of this phrase was much more musical in the original language, but for now, Neach would have to resort to these translations for a better understanding. He spent the remainder of the day reading from the text and absorbing as much information as he felt was physically possible.

  Night had fallen and Neach decided that he must discuss his findings with Fenris to better comprehend them.

  He exited the hut to find Fenris sitting adjacent to a freshly lit fire, whittling away at a piece of wood. In his free time, Fenris was fond of the wood craft. It seemed he was fond of creating many things, as they represented pieces of himself that existed in the tangible world.

  As Neach approached, he could see that Fenris had only just removed the bark from the outside of the stick. The real creative work had yet to come, and so he felt it was appropriate to interject now.

  “Hello, boy, what brings you out into this cold, damp night?” he asked before Neach had even come into his line of sight.

  Silently, Neach sat down across from him on a log that had been placed there for this very purpose.

  “I have come to ask questions, sir: about the House, about us,” Neach stated bluntly.

  Fenris seemed to like the direct nature of Neach’s propositions. For his naïve attitude at times, Neach had a way of approaching things with an overt sense of confidence.

  “Tell me, boy, what is that nags at your mind on this night?” Fenris queried.

  Neach paused and then continued into his first inquiry. His confidence had grown exponentially since he had arrived in the presence of Fenris.

  “I was wondering if you could tell me what exactly the book means by a ‘just and righteous cause’,” Neach asked.

  Fenris chuckled to himself. It was unclear whether this reaction was warranted due to the nature of the question, or the speed at which Neach was progressing through the training regiment, but by his answer the latter appeared more likely.

  “So I see you’ve unlocked the translations. Well, son, each and every one of us, and by us I mean people, not just members of this House, abide by a set of morals. A strict list of rules we feel should be upheld to maintain order within the chaos of our great world. Our duty as members of the House Goedwig is to uphold the morals set forth by our ancestors, who came before. Unlike those who fight for justice in public and shout from the street corners, our actions must be executed in the shadows.” Fenris concluded after a rather lengthy response.

  Immediately interjecting, Neach asked another question.

  “Fenris, why is it that we must exist in the shadows only? Surely recognition can be given for such a righteous deed.” Neach rebuked.

  “One thing you will learn, boy, is that men are created evil. The fault lines of humanity run deep and tremors will consistently arise from their chasms. By removing ourselves from the public sphere, we limit the corruption that can take place within our House. For only in reward can a man find himself valued at more than the worth of his moral code.” Fenris finished his statement as he threw a berry into his mouth and chewed down.

  This answer sparked more questions than anything from Neach about the nature of the collective he found himself within.

  “But it is getting late, Neach. Tomorrow you will be facing your final task, if you’re up to it. I trust that you will be ready, but for now I suggest you get your rest. You remind me of myself, a young man in Fletwod trying to turn my hut into a majestic palace with no resources or time. As of now you only understand a minimum of what will be fully divulged to you in time,” Fenris stated as he walked off toward the hut.

  He was left alone in the all encroaching darkness that had consumed the island. In the distance, birds could still be heard chirping, and the insects of the wood seemed to have awoken from their winter slumber. The aura of the forest at night was unlike anything Neach had ever felt. The heat from the day still hung thick in the air as he sat there in the early night. Fog emanated from the very pores of the Earth and rose ever so slightly to hover above the ground. It lingered like a protective layer of moisture that would ensure the vibrant foliage would remain alive in the morning.

  It took minutes before Neach arose from his seated position. He headed back toward his lodging with a multitude of thoughts bouncing around his head like fish in a crowded river. As he had learned previously, however, this frantic mind would prevent him from sleeping if he did not do something about it.

  And so, as Neach climbed into his bed, he fixated his mind upon thoughts of the water. The ocean he had crossed while travelling to the island. He thought about the crashing waves and their rhythmic existence. They flowed in and out, as if bound by an invisible string, at the beck and call of a superior power which also appeared to be elusive.

  In an instant, he was fast asleep. For the first time since his arrival, sleep came easy. His aching bones and his ever ailing mind were soothed to sleep with serene songs of solitude. They sang like canaries to the tune of loneliness, but their voices transformed it into a much more beautiful existence than most knew of.

  Almost as quickly as he had fallen asleep, Neach awoke with a shudder. Outside of the hut, Fenris was banging a pot with a metal rod. It seemed to fit in with his entire experience that this would be his method of
awakening. Abrasive and generally lacking pretext, this event jolted Neach out of bed and into the clearing.

  To his surprise, what Neach found was a rather pleasant sight. Fenris had risen early on in the morning to cook a supple breakfast complete with the finest meats, fruits, and breads he could offer. Smoked sausages, ripe berries, and fresh baked bread lined the table which had been set by Fenris. Although to most this collection would seem rudimentary and make shift, to Neach it appeared as if it were an oasis in a thirst deprived desert of satiation.

  He sat down across from Fenris and dove head first into the euphemistic waters that were the plentiful breakfast. He gorged himself with food and drink, generally refraining from eye contact with Fenris.

  Quite some time into the feast, Fenris broke the silence.

  “Today is the day you become an official brother, member, and most importantly, a recipient of the responsibilities of this house,” he said.

  Neach nodded in silence. Not much could be said in response to the bold proclamation made by Fenris. The last few weeks had served as a way of teaching Neach the incomprehensible gravity of the position he found himself in. Himself, as well as, his brothers within the House, were entrusted with upholding the ethical code set forth in the Toriik Riamendi. It was distinctly evident from the beginning that the path would never be clear, but nevertheless, Neach willingly put a foot forward.

  “Come, follow me, son. For it is time you completed your final task on the island,” Fenris said.

  As they walked, Fenris continued to talk to Neach.

  “For all of your questions, you never asked me if this place had a name,” Fenris stated. Above their heads, birds travelled in groups, chirping as they flew by. The creatures of the wood surrounded them on all sides, an envelope of innocent beauty.

  “Well, what is it?” Neach asked rather bluntly.

  “It’s called Rosalia. The name comes from the flowers that bloom just across the water. Rosalia in our native tongue means “already bloomed”. This land is fertile with the love of the world: the creatures which inhabit it, the trees which have born their roots into this soil. All exists in unity because it is untouched by man. It has bloomed, but hopefully, its bloom may be a lengthy one,” Fenris said. He had a way of articulating things in a way which told a story in a matter of a few words.

  They had headed on the same path as the day previous, ending up at the base of the hills which rose up from the ground.

  “I must stay here, but you, you’re going to the top,” Fenris demanded in a much more passive manner than usual.

  As Neach headed up the side of the hill, the trees were shed from its grassy sides. Near the top of the hill, all foliage had disappeared. The top of this bulbous mound bore nothing except the green grass which was found all around the Kingdom.

  The air seemed to escape Neach’s grasp as he turned around on the top of this hill. In every direction, all the eye could see was a horizon of bliss. The canopies which provided such little sunlight below, created a sort of thatched roof, which contained the light from the ground below. To one side, the mainland of the Kingdom was supremely evident in the line of sight. To another, complete nothingness. The sea seemed to expand for an eternity, as a blue blanket draped over the Earth.

  He was almost brought to tears at the sight atop the mound. For in the passing few weeks, his vision had opened far beyond any reach he believed was possible. Not only in the sphere of tangible sight, but his understanding and vision of his existence was much more comprehensive than ever before. He sat down on top of the hill and forgot the world for just a second. Not long into his day dream he heard the shouting of Fenris below him.

  “Down here, lad, turn your gaze from the horizon for just a moment!” he shouted with a chuckle.

  Neach’s head snapped back downward in the direction of the ground below. At the base of the hill Fenris stood with a piece of paper in his hands. There was something scrawled on it, but Neach was incapable of reading it from such great heights. He began to head down toward Fenris before he shouted yet again.

  “Stay up there, son, you’ve got to read it from a distance if you want to hear its true meaning!” he again bellowed from the forest floor.

  Frustration was slowly creeping into Neach’s psyche. It was absolutely insane to think someone could read such small print from so far away. Had Fenris finally lost his remaining screws and gone tumbling toward insanity in full force?

  Nevertheless, Neach laughed lightly to himself and obliged Fenris’ wish. He squinted his eyes until the slits were nearly closed but still nothing could be made apparent from the surface of the paper.

  “What are you playing at? There’s no way I can see that from here, Fenris,” Neach hollered.

  “Aye, but there is! It’s deep inside of you, bring it to the surface,” Fenris bellowed back.

  Without warning, a strong gust hit Neach on his right side. He stumbled for a second before regaining his composure and stature atop the hill. The next move was born out of both frustration and a real desire to rest his aching bones. His eyes closed and suddenly the world was rushing around him.

  He saw himself running down the hill toward Fenris but his body was merely smoke. No tangible physical presence was attached to him at the time, and his ghostly aura approached Fenris from the front. He read the paper while still in his other state of consciousness, all the while his body remained atop the hill, frozen.

  It read “du riik tryx walla dirry vo plyx, hom dirry shalla vo gillet vo wix”. The words were inscribed in a sloppy handwriting, most likely due to Fenris’ old age. They were written in the native language of the people of the House, but Neach had become more adept at comprehending the alphabet as time passed. Although unaware of the meaning without his new found translational abilities, the words resonated as he screamed them into the air.

  With an echo, the archaic language of the House Goedwig filled the ears of all living beings for only just an instant. The raw power of the spoken word rang true atop the hill as Neach was filled with ecstasy. His limbs felt light and it seemed like he’d take flight at any second, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. Across his right forearm, ink emerged from his dirty skin.

  A mark had risen from his skin and created a beautiful piece of work across his arm as birds flew overheard singing songs of old. His name, Coinneach, was grafted into his skin in the ancient language of his people. Surrounding it was a picture depicting olive branches and birds that were created in the highest detail possible.

  He looked down at his arm to see the new canvas that belonged to him and raised his arm high above his head. From down below, Fenris simply smiled and began to walk up the hill.

  All had become calm again, but Neach was exhilarated. His breath was short, and his heart was racing: today he had realized his existence.

  Fenris arrived at the summit soon after this monumental moment. His hands were brought together in applause as Neach stood and watched over the land below him. His rather frail body had been transformed in the recent weeks. What had once been thin muscle and gaunt features, was now the inklings of strength and chiseled definition. His transition had culminated with this moment, and Fenris was there to congratulate him.

  “You have managed to complete your transition faster than anyone I have ever known before. For that I congratulate you, but, alas, something more dire looms on the horizon,” Fenris stated.

  Neach’s gaze was not averted from the open seas in front of him. Weeks had passed since he arrived on this island and his full position had now been realized, although it still felt like Fenris was hiding something from him.

  His sneaking suspicion was confirmed as Fenris turned his back to Neach and made a proclamation.

  “A war will be waged, Coinneach; you seem to have arrived just in time,” Fenris said.