by J. Conrad
Well? Trystan asked.
I had been standing there, my eyes glazing over as my mind raced. Well, I couldn’t go back, and I knew of no other way to survive out here.
You are afraid, Trystan continued. Don’t be. There is nothing to fear when you’re with me.
I smiled as I took a step toward him. He had such a peculiar nature—he seemed so uncomplicated. He was innocent and trusting as though we had been friends all our lives. Perhaps being an animal, the rules of his social interaction were vastly less complex than mine. Yes, thank you for such a kind offer. I would like that, I told him.
Follow me. We’ll find a safe hollow to make our den, Trystan thought.
I obeyed, walking after him as he turned and trotted off toward the other side of the clearing from where he had come.
I asked, Don’t you need to return to your pack? Unless, perhaps since you are different than the ordinary wolves I’ve seen, you don’t live in packs, but dwell alone?
I was… elsewhere. My kind does live in packs—‘korda,’ they are called, and I long very much to return to mine. We’re called the Draugosero, the name of those who may enter the spirit world. But I cannot let my desires interfere with my duties.
I see. This ‘elsewhere,’ this is a secret place, of which you mustn’t speak? I asked. It reminded me of Eiriana who had spoken nearly identical words. She wouldn’t reveal her whereabouts during her many years of absence.
No, I’m allowed to tell you. Only, I don’t know if you will understand yet.
I laughed. After seeing my stepmother’s face change into that of a monster right before my eyes, I’d probably believe anything. She can set things on fire without touching them. She has… a dark magic, I suppose. Powers. I know of no better words for it.
Trystan stopped in his tracks and turned, looking up and narrowing his orange eyes at me. Your replacement mother is a Calek? Are you certain of this?
My breath caught in my throat as I looked down at him. His vivid eyes blazed, and he bristled the coarse fur on his shoulders.
I told him, I don’t know what she is, and I know nothing about the Calek. You mentioned they’re what humans know as witches, and that is a suitable term for her. But all I really know is that she’s evil, and I had to escape.
Trystan let out a low growl. He drew back the skin of his muzzle in a snarl, revealing a row of sharp, white fangs. He shook a few times before the fur on his back began to lie flat again. We speak of the same creature, Elin. If this is true, then it is indeed a good thing we’ve found one another. I hadn’t known the Calek’s influence was so far reaching. Tell me, what is your replacement mother’s name?
It irked me that he kept referring to Gwyneth as a “replacement.” She was no more a replacement for my mother Cara than a festering bog was a replacement for an abundant lake, but I suppose Trystan meant well. He seemed to have difficulty grasping the stepmother concept.
Her name is Gwyneth Urien, and she moved to our home in Rhedyn Town from Maenglen recently to marry my father. Have you heard of her? I asked.
No, and this worries me all the more, he replied.
When we find a place to sleep, I’m interested to know more of this—of your pack, and of the Calek. You seem to have a great dislike of them and I can understand why, if there are more like Gwyneth. You’re the first person—I mean, creature, to have told me anything at all. A woman named Eiriana, who claims to be my grandmother, said that Gwyneth is a witch, but she didn’t elaborate.
I’m happy to tell you all that I know, Trystan replied. You seem to have much unrest in your family. Who is this woman, Eiriana? Where does she come from?
I know that her name is Eiriana Wren. She said she lives in Lyntref, but I don’t know it for a fact. She is… interesting. Odd. Claims to be my mother’s mother but appears barely older than Father. She has silver hair and the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen. I laughed. Now you will think I’m telling stories.
Trystan paused before answering. I don’t know what you mean by “telling stories.” Our stories are sacred to us, handed down for countless generations. Do you mean to say that Eiriana sounds like a legend from one of your human stories?
His answer made it sound like he didn’t understand the concept of lying. Maybe he just didn’t understand the expression I used. What I meant was, I hope I didn’t give you the impression that my description was untrue.
Of course not, he thought, and I realized he knew I was telling the truth since he could see my thoughts. Your description sounds like that of a Fae. Ageless and with great power, the Fae sometimes walk among humans. My kind, the Draugosero, seek aid from them at times, and are trying to ally with them in the battle against the Calek. But this Eiriana you speak of, I haven’t heard the name. These are strange times indeed.
Fae? What are Fae? I asked.
They are creatures of magic from the Fae Realm. Some look like humans, like the woman you described. Others are small, have wings, and live in tree tops or meadows.
I shook my head as I pushed a low-hanging branch out of my way. It almost sounded as though he were talking about fairies. Are Fae good creatures?
Yes, most of them are. But unwary travelers shouldn’t venture into the Fae Realm alone—not that it’s easy to do. Also, the concept of ‘good’ varies among the different worlds. What is good to you and me may mean something different to a creature of Fae.
I don’t think I could find it, much less venture there, I laughed.
As I dragged my sore, exhausted body along the deer trail in the autumn forest, I realized that I had not eaten or drunk anything since yesterday at noon. As the scare of the previous night was fading, so were my energy reserves. My stomach ached and groaned with emptiness. Since our communication was about as close to “mind reading” as one could get, Trystan had no trouble picking up on this.
We will stop soon, he told me.
Thank you. But please don’t make me eat raw rabbit. Although I fear that soon I’ll eat anything you put before me, even if it crawls on eight legs. I smiled, and although he had his back to me, I knew he felt the humor.
Trystan gave a short yip, probably the closest sound he could make to a chuckle. I won’t feed you anything raw unless you desire it. But you miss the best taste of meat if it’s set to fire. Fresh, unspoiled flesh is best and most wholesome.
I groaned as the wolf turned left at a fork in the trail. The forest seemed quieter this way, older and brooding. Wide, gnarled tree trunks left very little room for saplings. Vines hung from their branches, hiding the sun and making deep shadows.
Where are we? I asked.
We have crossed the border into my pack’s territory. This is Dunkrist. The Wolf Queen still rules here. We will be safe.
This is where your pack lives? I asked. I didn’t see or hear signs of wolves.
Yes, but we’re on the outskirts. I don’t wish for anyone to see us. This way, he told me, and he broke off the path, shunting between the wide tree trunks into a dense thicket. I frowned. Why didn’t he want to be seen? I hesitated, seeing how the sunlight melted into shadow where the bushes began. If I went in, I probably wouldn’t be able to see, and the thought of not knowing what the darkness held frightened me.
Don’t be afraid. It’s a good hiding place, nothing more, he told me.
The thicket had a small opening, not unlike the mouth of a cave. Glossy, green leaves of holly bushes were thickly interwoven on each side and above, and after a few feet, blackness was the only discernible color. I hadn’t balked until now. But I reminded myself that I had been in another wolf’s den, long ago when I was innocent and trusting, the same way Trystan was behaving toward me now. Still, I was a human girl and he was a wild animal—who would win if it came to it?
I shook the feeling off. This was the same small, warm puppy I held in my arms on the day my mother had been stolen from me. The only difference was that now he was grown up.
To follow Trystan inside, I had to get down on my hand
s and knees. He led the way and I scooted along close behind. I don’t know what I was afraid of. About twenty feet in, there was light leaking through the gaps in the holly bushes, just enough to let us see where we were going. After perhaps another ten feet, the tunnel opened into a round hollow between trees and bushes. The floor was covered in leaves and dried grass.
We can use this abandoned den until we find one more suitable. Now you may rest, Elin, and I’ll catch our food.
I crawled into the hollow, which was almost large enough and high enough for me to stand up in. I didn’t feel like standing, however, and the soft, dried grass looked clean and insect free. It was the closest thing I was going to get to a bed, and I was grateful for it.
I smiled. Thank you, Trystan. I am honored by your kindness.
He turned and vanished down the tunnel, the blond end of his tail being the last thing I saw before I untied the bag from my waist. Thank goodness I had the sense to put on trousers last night. My legs were protected, and I could use my sack for a pillow. I had packed a thin sheet, which I removed, and I threw it over my body as I lay down.
It was hard not to ruminate over all my new experiences, good and bad, but especially the pleasant ones from today. Of all the strange things Trystan had told me, one stood out the most. I know you, and I’ve seen you in my dreams ever since that time. It was so odd that I couldn’t put it out of my mind, even though I was exhausted. I knew that Trystan was an animal, and animals bond differently than humans do. But such a bond seemed so foreign to the fickle relationships I had known—besides what I remembered of my mother, but she was gone. I longed to ponder this concept more, to try and figure it out. My eyes grew heavy and the great weight of weariness dragged me down, covering me with its cloak of slumber.
Chapter 8
Iawoke to the smells of smoke and roasting meat. My eyes opened slowly to reveal a faint, golden light. There was dried grass under my hands and in my hair. Branches and leaves composed the walls around me. As I tried to get my bleary vision to better adjust, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. The drowsiness was hanging on like a bad cup of mead, and I blinked, focusing on the dark tunnel of the den. My heart started racing as I remembered. I had run away from home. I had met Trystan and had been sleeping in an abandoned wolf’s den—until we could find a more suitable one, he had said. I smiled.
“Elin,” a young man’s voice said on the other side of the tunnel. “Are you awake? I’ve prepared food for us.”
My stomach plummeted like Cirros diving for a field mouse. I stood up, nearly banging my head on a tree branch. Not knowing how he knew my name, or who he was, I backed up as far as I could against the natural barrier.
“Elin,” the voice repeated, closer now. “Come. It’s time to eat, while the sun is still up.”
The leaves before me, which formed the walls of the tunnel, started rustling and shivering, and I couldn’t retreat any farther. A human head emerged, and the young man looked up and smiled. He had sandy brown hair and orange eyes. I gasped, pushing against the branches behind me, but there was nowhere to go. The sharp points and edges of the holly leaves stabbed my back like needles.
“It is I,” he said. “Trystan. This is how I look in my human form. Now I am like you.” He grinned and nearly stood up in the den. He was too tall to rise to his full height, but I could see him just fine. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his body was covered in lean, taut muscle. I could plainly see his chest, his tight stomach and his powerful legs. At least he had taken the trouble of wrapping an animal skin garment around his loins.
A rush of heat made my face bloom flame red. I had never seen a man wearing so little—ever. The fact that he was my age or perhaps a year or two older made it all the worse. He was attractive—attractive being an understatement—and he was practically nude, standing not four feet away from me with that grin on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing. Should I be frightened? I wasn’t. I only felt embarrassed and awkward and I wondered if he could tell.
“Trystan,” I said. “I—I didn’t expect this—this—change.”
He laughed. “Do you like it? Now I’m like you and we can speak easily.”
“Yes. You look...” What could I say that was polite and honest, yet appropriate? “The human form suits you well,” I said. I swallowed and forced a small smile.
“Good, I was hoping you’d say so. Now come eat, before the goose I just ruined for you over the fire gets cold.”
I gave a shaky laugh and followed him through the tunnel. When we emerged out in the open of the forest, I was suddenly self-conscious. I hadn’t brushed my hair, or washed my face, and I probably smelled bad. The only sleep I’d had in two days was a nap I snatched on the floor of an animal’s lair.
Trystan pointed to a little pile of smoldering logs and twigs, the fire of which had recently been damped. Above it was a cleaned bird on a spit made from sticks. My stomach growled—nothing had ever looked so appetizing to me as the primitively roasted goose.
I saw that he had cleared the ground of debris near the fire pit, and I sat down crossed-legged in the dirt. I grabbed pieces of the roast goose with my filthy hands, shoving it into my mouth and barely chewing. I was getting it on my face, but I didn’t care. Trystan seated himself across from me. He wasn’t eating, only watching me with an enigmatic smile on his lips.
“What about you?” I asked, finally taking a breath between bites. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’ve already eaten. Raw, you know?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“Ah. Of course,” I said.
“I’ve brought you some water as well.” He held up a small bag, which appeared to be a leather waterskin. “There’s a stream nearby which I’ll show you later. You’ll be able to bathe, wash your garments, and do anything else you need to do.”
I sighed with relief at the thought of drinking. “Thank you.” He handed the bag to me and I drained it dry. Looking at the waterskin, I turned down the corners of my mouth. “So, although you live in a den, you also keep human devices for when you assume this form?”
“Yes, that is exactly true. However, certain things are also useful in another form—the Rai—when I do battle.”
I set the last bare bone from the goose in the pile of ashes and looked up at him. “The Rai. I would like to hear of this, if you care to tell me. And, if you’re willing, it would intrigue me to learn more about your pack.”
Trystan nodded, his soft, orange eyes casting a radiant glance at me when he smiled. “It would please me.”
As I sat in the ancient forest near sunset, listening to the description of his race, things began to come together for me that I had thought impossible. I learned that not only were his kind shapeshifters, but they had three—sometimes four, depending on the breed—forms, not two. When Trystan was angry or driven to fighting, he changed into the Rai, the battle form. He became a wolf who stood upright like a man, with a torso, arms, and hands in human likeness but covered in fur. The Rai had great physical strength and size, towering over the average human. But during a full moon the Draugosero were the most powerful of all.
“Trystan,” I said, pushing my disheveled hair away from my face. “When my family’s carriage was attacked by the hooded men, many years ago, a great, black wolf saved Father and me. The great wolf hurled men or tore them apart as though they were only rag dolls. Now I know it was a Rai. The Rai carried me to the safety of a den. Afterwards, a smaller, black wolf who walked on four legs appeared and nursed her young. And then this wolf was gone and Seren came—your mother, who had long, coal-black hair. She fed us for days, nursed Father back to health and arranged a carriage for us, so that we could return home from the unfamiliar forest. Trystan, am I correct in thinking that the Rai, the wolf, and the woman I met that day were all the same being—your mother?”
He nodded as he took a stick and began stirring the smoking coals, mixing the goose bones into the ashes. “The very same.”
&nbs
p; “Why did she help us? She recognized that I had the gift of animal speech and empathy, but she fought bravely even before she knew that. Why did she extend such kindness to strangers?” I asked.
Trystan’s smile faded as he continued agitating the ashes. He frowned when his eyes met mine again. “My race are enemies of the Calek, and the men who robbed you of your mother are her servants. They were too close to our den and a Draugosero female will fight fiercely to protect her litter. But she also learned of the attack on your family, nearby, and tried to stop it. The Calek meant to use your mother for a dark purpose—something that would affect us all.”
“What purpose was that? Did they kill her?” Pressure began building in my throat and behind my eyes, and I swallowed the lump of grief. No matter how many years had passed, it seemed I couldn’t accept the idea that Mother was dead. Not even Father’s threats had banished it from my mind.
A crease sprang up between Trystan’s brows as his frown deepened. “Elin, what I’m about to tell you may be difficult for you to accept. Once I’ve said it, I can’t unsay it.”
“Trystan! Please, tell me all that you know. In all these years you’re the first person to have told me anything at all. I have been...” Alone. Lied to. Betrayed, I thought, and I wondered if he heard. Either way, I didn’t need to say it out loud.
He nodded. “Very well. You told me that a woman with silver hair—” He tilted his head, trying to recall the name.
“Eiriana,” I said.
“Eiriana. As I’ve said, your description of her sounds like that of a Fae. You also say she claims to be your grandmother—your mother’s mother. As for the truth of these suppositions, I can’t say, because I don’t know her, nor have I heard the name. But I can tell you this. A Fae known as Lysidia had an interest in your family many years ago. Somehow, the Calek had discovered this interest, and so, your mother was seen as a pawn. They planned on using her to entrap Lysidia. She was, and still is, a powerful foe of the Calek, one of the few Fae with whom we Draugosero have frequent dealings. She assisted us in the battle, and later went after your mother’s kidnappers. I didn’t see Lysidia again until recent years, and she told me the woman—your mother—had been lost.” His eyes wandered over my face, searching for my reaction.
