The Winds of Crowns and Wolves

by K. E. Walter

  “We will need all members of the House, if we are to survive it, and I trust that you will do all that is needed of you,” Fenris continued.

  “I cannot give you all of the details of this impending battle, son, but what I can tell you is this: there is a dark cloud hanging over the Kingdom. Duncairn may not be safe for very long. It is our job to make sure that the people of this land remain as such and prosper in the coming months,” Fenris concluded.

  With a nod, Neach headed down toward the forest floor. His purpose was slowly being revealed, but his story was only just beginning.

  The blood of the House Goedwig flowed through his veins, and the teachings of Fenris flowed through his brain. Whatever may lie ahead, he believed he would be prepared for it. Men had come in the past and men would undoubtedly come in the future. It was his job to ensure that.

  XII

  Morning broke with the loud crash of thunder outside of the hut where Neach and Fenris resided. The patter of rain could be heard echoing through the trees as it hit the thick leaves they bore. The truth was, Neach hadn’t slept much regardless. He had spent the last few hours contemplating what it was that Fenris had said to him atop the hill.

  What was this impending conflict that the House would find themselves thrust into? Was it a physical war that was looming, or was it simply a threat to the House’s integrity? These questions and more bounced around Neach’s head, as if he were attempting to cage in wild chickens inside of his mind. They prevented him from rest, and his only respite was the soothing patter of the rain.

  The increasing warmth had led to more frequent thunderstorms, as it usually did in the Kingdom. By now, the spring had run its course and was beginning to wind down. The summers in Duncairn could be both relentless and magnificent. There would be days with excessive humidity and heat, and days where the rain won the perpetual battle with the sun.

  As he lay on his back, he stared at the ceiling above him. Little could be done to turn his attention away from Fenris’ words, but he soon fell into a deep slumber. The sleepless night had finally taken its toll upon his weary body.

  His mind transitioned into the subconscious, and suddenly he was flying alongside a wolf in an open field. The wolf was running as fast as it possibly could in the direction of a river. What Neach couldn’t see from his vantage point was another wolf running in the direction of the first one. The two looked destined to collide with each other at full speed. The first was auburn colored with deep blue eyes, while the other was black with red eyes.

  The two beasts met in the center of the field and began to attack each other viciously. Neach wanted to help them more than anything in the world at that moment, but it felt like he was bound at the hands and feet. It continued for minutes, while Neach attempted to scream out with no avail. Finally, the black wolf rose to its feet with blood around its mouth and scampered away.

  At the moment in which Neach saw the face of the black wolf, he was jolted awake by another crash of lighting. The thunder seemed to emanate from underneath his bed as it shook the whole of the hut at its very core. His breathing was heavy and he was trying to calm himself down as he lay there, sweating in his bed. Hours had passed since he fell asleep, as Fenris stood up and headed outside.

  Neach rose from his bed and wiped the sweat from his brow as he rose to meet with the old man.

  He headed out of the hut, into the early morning dampness. The rain had ceased, but the crackling lightning could be seen off in the eastern distance. Smoke was billowing upward from the fire in the center of the clearing, and Fenris was carving a piece of wood with a knife. On the shaft, there was a caricature of a wolf carved deep into the grooves of the tree branch. From the detail that was present, it was clear that Fenris had been crafting this piece for a long time.

  His hands slowed, and eventually rested as Neach approached from behind him. The demeanor he had undertaken was incredibly somber, a stark difference from the atmosphere of celebration exuded the day earlier.

  “Son, I need you to sit down,” Fenris began.

  He rubbed the palms of his hands together anxiously, as the deep wrinkles of his face carved into his flesh.

  His eyes peered off into the distance, their steely foundation surrounded by the clouded cataracts of old age. He had the face of an exasperated old fellow, but the strength had not been fully sapped from his bones.

  As he turned toward Neach, his eyes fell upon his arm. The new marking had caused irritation for the new initiate of the House, and he had been subconsciously scratching at it throughout the night.

  “We will have to get you something for that in a minute, follow me,” Fenris said.

  The two men headed off down the eastern coast of the island. As they neared the edge of the forest, the trees once again disappeared and were replaced by a multitude of rocks. The rocks transitioned from sporadic into a full sheet of cracked Earth along the peninsula.

  Fenris motioned for Neach to be seated on the edge of a stone, as he headed toward the water on the other side. Inside the water, a green plant grew that assisted in the healing of abrasions. The same plant grew in the rivers of Duncairn, so Neach was familiar with their existence.

  Neach sat and stared off at the mainland from the rocky peninsula with a concerned look upon his face. Something was bothering Fenris, but it just hadn’t been revealed yet.

  As Fenris returned, he brought with him the plant and placed it on Neach’s arm. A cooling sensation spread its way across Neach’s whole body, as the natural ointment worked its wondrous powers on his flesh.

  “There’s an evil force out there, Coinneach,” Fenris began. His palms rubbed together again as the skin became raw. The anxious habit had taken its toll on his leathery hands.

  “Off in the distance, on the main island of our Kingdom, one of our own has found solace in the bowels of the Royal family,” Fenris continued.

  “Our very own King, Henrig, is a member of our House Goedwig. Years ago, when the land was ruled by the people, before the existence of a King, Henrig’s father was one of our most prestigious warriors. He fought for the mutual benefit of the people of Duncairn, as well as himself. Relentlessly he cried out against immorality and the ruthlessness of the Gods. A son was birthed to him by the name Henrig,” Fenris said, as he lost himself in the tale of years passed.

  Neach was sat, transfixed by the atmosphere that Fenris commanded. It demanded the ultimate silence and respect for the man who had seen many years in this forsaken land that Neach had only just been exposed to.

  “Henrig, son of Golthar, was dissident from a young age. At the age of 17, he left the embrace of our House and headed on a mission of his own, to seize power. He gathered a coalition of others inside the mainland of the Kingdom. They hailed from the lowlands of Siriac, to the wooded realm of Endal, all in favor of restoring power to a single man, a man by the name of Henrig,” Fenris took a breather as he continued to gaze out onto the ocean waters.

  “Years ago he led a group of mercenaries into Leirwold and erected the Castle Leirwold as a symbol of his newly found authority. Our House stood by idly, as we felt it was not in our power to interfere with the Gods’ will. But, now, things have changed dramatically,” Fenris stated dubiously.

  “The man you met in Leirwold, Daniel, he has been keeping the members of the House updated on Henrig’s movements about the city. Biweekly he sends word to our settlement, just outside of Cyll. It appears that recently, Henrig has been sending out public threats to the members of our House. Using traps that play upon our stealth, Henrig has spent the last few months attempting to eradicate our people from the Kingdom,” Fenris concluded.

  Neach sat in silence for the better part of a few minutes. What had begun as an unknown journey weeks ago had now developed into a battle for his very existence. Almost as quickly as he had learned of his life as a member of the House Goedwig, he learned that one of his own intended on taking that away. He swallowed hard and turned toward Fenris.

 
“So, where does this leave us? Are we destined to fall at the sword of a divergent member of our own people?” Neach asked inquisitively.

  Fenris chuckled again; he seemed to find Neach to be a humorous fellow.

  “Son, you must not let the naivety of youth affect the clear headedness of your thoughts. If we were doomed to such a meaningless existence, you would not have been brought here,” Fenris said.

  “We need every member in this Kingdom if we are meant to survive this attack. The strength will lie in numbers, and the numbers are most definitely limited. Rest assured our purpose as a group is to persevere. You, just as much as every other member of this house, will play a pivotal role in the fight against our rogue brother,” Fenris concluded as he became somber once again.

  “In fact, you have a role all to yourself,” Fenris laughed darkly.

  “You are meant to infiltrate the Castle Leirwold, Neach,” he began. “Once it has been done you will wait for our word, but until then, you remain silent and out of sight,” Fenris concluded.

  “If you are discovered within the walls of the city, Henrig will have you killed, I have no doubt,” he said as a thick dark cloud seemed to hang over every word which emanated from his mouth.

  Neach understood. Though he wished the circumstances could be more favorable, he relished the idea of maintaining an individual purpose within the community of his new brethren. Leirwold was a full day’s travel from the island. If he left now, he would arrive in the morning, as the sunshine first struck the edifices of the Castle.

  “How is it you came to the island, Neach?” Fenris inquired.

  “Up north, through the meadows below the mountains, directly from the city,” Neach replied.

  Fenris mulled over the new information for a few moments before he spoke again.

  “There is a much easier path, if you wish to follow it. Go south from the mountains and over the river that lies near to its base. From that river, you will arrive in a village called Jorwel. One of your brothers, Tyrin, lives there now. He’s only a few years older than yourself, perhaps you two will strike up a conversation,” Fenris stated into the empty air.

  Neach brewed over the possibility for a few seconds and a smile quickly wafted across his face. This would be the first time he would meet someone from the House outside of Fenris and Daniel.

  “From Jorwel you will go South to Endal and West through the Forest of Light,” he continued with due diligence. “Once you leave the Forest of Light, Leirwold will be near in the forefront of your view,” Fenris finished. “I trust you will like the Forest, some say it’s full of magic,” he said as he stood to his feet.

  “Go now, your horse will be waiting across the water, I have set his accommodations in order for these last few weeks, so you should find him in good health,” Fenris smiled as he revealed this piece of information, “Rine, isn’t it?” he asked with the smile spreading wide into an unabashed grin.

  Neach nodded in agreement as Fenris’s leathery hand patted him on the back stiffly. He walked away, back into the forest, as Neach sat on the edge of the rocks that were found on the peninsula. Neach gazed out for a final time at the mainland which would hold him in its grasp for the foreseeable future. With a turn to the south, Neach headed into the forest behind Fenris and toward the beach where the boat he would use to cross the ocean was located.

  By now, the clouds had cleared overhead and the sun shone down upon Neach’s back as he untied the boat from the rocky shore. The water looked calm, and as he dipped his toes in, a cool sensation spread throughout his body. He could not remember the last time he had swum for pleasure. As a boy, he spent the warm days of summer swimming in the river near his home. Its flowing tide was gentle enough to maintain one’s position, if they could stand on the sandy bottom.

  It was as clear as the view from atop the mountains in his foreground, and the water shimmered in the burgeoning sunlight. As the final knot was untied from the bow of the boat, he pushed it into position. Adroitly, he placed one foot inside and swung the other over simultaneously.

  Waves lapped up against the outside of the boat, but none threatened to do any serious damage. Across the narrow strait and around the protruding rocks, Neach navigated his way onto dry land again on the other side. His feet touched down on the mainland of Duncairn for the first time in the better part of a month and a smiled expanded across his face.

  In front of him, Rine stood eating carrots. He had been untied recently, but stayed fairly motionless in the same place that Neach had left him. His hands found Rine’s mane, as he stroked it gently while burying his head in his neck. He had missed his companion, and now they were reunited. A few minutes had passed before Neach was mounted atop the grand old horse again. With a crash of the reigns, the two headed off for the mountains.

  The wind blew through Neach’s lengthening hair and he threw his hands his into the air with joy. To be reunited with Rine after the time that had passed was liberating for the young man. He held a connection with the horse that was unlike anything a human could offer him. As his hands came to rest back on the reigns, the pair made a turn toward the flower fields that lie at the base of the mountains. With reckless abandon, Neach and Rine hurdled toward the rocky cliffs.

  Minutes later, they were scaling the same mountain path that had led to such treacherous events en route to Rosalia. There was a new found confidence about Neach; he travelled with the head of a grown man who had seen the trials of life, but moved with the agility of a man who maintained his youth in stature.

  For now, Neach put everything out of his mind. He focused solely on the mountain flowers which seemed to grow out of nothingness, the birds that flew at the highest heights near the peaks of the range, and the rabbits who came out of hiding, as Rine’s hooves hammered into the ground. He closed his eyes momentarily and soaked in the surroundings. Each individual piece coalesced into a mosaic of bliss that was, quite literally, music to his ears.

  His morale had increased astonishingly since he sat on the peninsula with Fenris, but it was not long before Neach contemplated the ramifications of the looming King. Fortunately for Neach, he did not know the route very well, so as he came to the base of the mountain on the other side, he began to think of his next movement.

  Up ahead, he saw a river off in the distance. Heeding Fenris’ advice, he set course for the small stream that separated the northern portion of Duncairn. As the two approached the water, it looked as if it would be simple to ford. With minimal hesitation from Rine, Neach urged the horse’s hooves into the river and they began to cross it. On such a humid day, the horse would have been thankful for the refreshing task.

  There was no defined path to the village that Fenris mentioned, but Neach understood that it was directly south of where he had crossed the water. With a crack of the reigns again, Neach and his horse flew toward their destination. The water ran alongside them before they were separated from it. To the West, there were simply fields. Minimal elevation and no community to speak of, Neach looked ahead once again.

  Nothing could be seen in front of him, but as the minutes passed, a small consortium of homes could be seen far off into the distance. As Neach grew closer, he realized there were hundreds of these small collections of huts. Surrounding a central area, the village of Jorwel was made up of thousands of homes, made of thatch and wood. Smoke billowed from the tops of the outermost huts and Neach breathed in the wood fire as he entered the village limits. There was no official entrance, only a separation between two small glorified corn houses.

  It was by no means wealthy. The people of the village were as dirty as those in Spleuchan Sonse, if not dirtier. The largest difference between his home and this place was the lack of an agricultural presence. Once he entered the village, he did not see a single tilled field. There must have been a secondary source of income for the population, but it was unlike anything Neach had ever known growing up. All around the town people could be seen hauling bundles of wood. Neach immediately g
ot the impression that there was a plentiful stock of trees somewhere near to the settlement, and they used that to barter for the other necessary goods in their lives.

  No words were spoken that Neach could hear. Occasionally, a muddled sentence would be shouted, but for the most part they were silent. They did not pay any mind to the man riding into their village on horseback; it was as if they had become accustomed to it. What that meant, Neach was unsure, but it was encouraging to ride freely without demands of his reason for being in the town.