A few of the trainees stood a bit more proudly at the declaration, though Pendr was not among them. It took four days of traveling from sunrise to sunset for Pendr to arrive at the training camp—a camp close enough to the king’s castle that they could see the top of the tower spires above the trees. Pendr had never been to the capital of Nothcar, and seeing even a bit of the castle was awe inspiring. I had no idea men could build something so tall.
The trip to the wooded campsite was not entirely unpleasant, at first. Eladrel was in the same caravan, though he left with those who could wield the green myelur on the second day. None of them were told where they would be going, to avoid leaking information upon capture, Pendr supposed.
For the rest of the trip, Pendr had kept to himself. Others were making friends and getting to know each other, though he had no desire to do so. Perhaps it is because those I’ve known, or who I get to know, have ended up either dead or separated from me.
More than once his thoughts dwelled on Danla. But each time, he remembered his promise. He would not do anything stupid in an attempt to impress anyone—including her. If he was to protect her, as well as his family in Logs Pond, he needed to learn what Captain Mux would teach him. He may not like the role he was in—he missed the satisfaction which came from bending and shaping metal—but he could not return to that life knowing the risks that could come to his village.
“Each of you has demonstrated the ability to access the blue myelur,” Mux said, snapping Pendr out of his wondering thoughts. “Though some of you have displayed a stronger aptitude than others. I need a volunteer to tell of an experience they have had.”
A man in the front row raised his hand. “I would be honored.”
“Step forward, and tell us your name and from whence you come,” Mux said.
The trainee did as commanded, turning to face the rest of the men. His dark hair was cropped short, so much so that it looked like a skullcap. “I am Dosfogal, of Seven Lakes. It happened while training with my squad after my conscription. We were practicing swordplay. Though we used wooden swords, they could leave quite a mark. On the first day, as the battle commenced, I could feel a cool sensation in the center of my head. It was unlike anything I’d felt before. After each day, I was physically exhausted, though I slept well each night. By the end of the third day, I was the only one in my squad not marked with bruises or minor cuts.”
Pendr noticed a number of the trainees nodding their heads as if indicating they had similar experiences.
“I knew I had taken several hard blows,” Dosfogal continued, “and had no explanation why they didn’t show. The next day, I was summoned to my captain’s tent. After describing my experience, he ordered me here.”
Mux’s expression did not change when he said, “That will be all. Return to formation.”
As Dosfogal did so, Mux asked, “Who will be next?”
This time, a man from the third row pushed his way forward. Though he was a handspan shorter than Pendr, his physique was similar. Pendr thought perhaps he had also been a blacksmith once.
“I’m Sadem, from High Falls. I was shield bearer for Sir Noffton.” He paused for a moment as if waiting for that statement to mean something. When no one reacted, Sadem frowned, then said, “We were headed toward Iredell when the ambush came. Twenty-five of the king’s men died that day, including Sir Noffton. When we were first attacked, the cowards peppered us with arrows. My liege had no warning before his horse was struck twice—once in the leg, the other in the neck. The horse collapsed, throwing Sir Noffton onto a solid boulder. I rushed to his aid, and in so doing, felt the same cool sensation as Dosfo— Dosfog— whatever his name was, described. I, too, felt drained, until I realized that the arrows bounced off me, not even leaving a mark.”
Sadem smirked. “This was real combat, not slapping each other with play swords. While I felt powerful, I knew my duty. Sadly, the fall had broken Sir Noffton’s neck. He was dead before I could even get to him.”
The young man from High Falls stood taller. “While those around me fell, I continued to ward off the arrows. I took up Sir Noffton’s sword and went to attack those shooting at us from the wood. When they saw I could not be harmed, they ran off. Yes, I was a bit tired after that, but based on the stories I’d heard growing up, I knew I had the warrior’s power. It was only logical I would be sent here to help all of you.”
Though Sadem looked nothing like Lunz, the mayor’s son who had died during the ambush on Pendr’s small group, his pride certainly matched. It was not confidence which Sadem displayed; it was arrogance. Pendr pondered a moment on the difference, thinking that confidence was displayed when a person knew something about themselves to be a strength, whereas arrogance was not knowledge as much as a belief. Sadem thought highly of himself, and being able to use the blue myelur could only make it worse. I won’t let that happen to me.
A few other men came forward after Sadem, recounting stories of a similar nature. In each case, there was some peril involved. None of them described the experience of feeling the blue myelur build up inside of them, and then release it as Pendr had done. Neither did any of the others describe the ability to create wards, both of warning and protection, like those made by Mistress Halima.
“Is that all?” Mux said after the sixth man told his story. “Did none of you experience anything different?”
Pendr hesitated, waiting to see if anyone else would speak up. No one did. Finally, he raised his hand, only high enough to catch the captain’s attention.
“You, the tall one,” Mux said, pointing. “Come forth.”
“Pardon me,” Pendr said. He waited for the men in front of him to move out of the way. With a pathway clear, he stood next to his new captain.
“Explain,” was all Mux said.
Pendr looked at the soldiers before him. Most of them were a bit older, and none looked younger. Perhaps the power doesn’t come to us until a certain age. A few of the group waited anxiously, while Sadem continued to smirk.
“I have had similar experiences,” Pendr said. “The blue myelur protected me in battle. Yet, there was something else.”
He looked at the ground, not wanting to see their reactions, yet unsure why. “In one battle, instead of feeling the myelur in my mind, I felt it here.” He tapped his breastbone. “An enemy was escaping, and I couldn’t reach him before he would disappear into the trees. The energy built up inside me, and then … ” They won’t believe me. They will think I’m making this up to impress them.
“Then, what?” A voice called out. Pendr recognized it as Sadem.
Pendr lifted his head. Raising his arm, palm forward, he said, “I instinctively made this motion. Somehow, I released the power inside my chest. I could not see it, though I saw the result. The enemy was flung against a tree. It was powerful enough to kill him.”
“Not possible,” Sadem said. “Did anyone else experience this?”
None of the men responded.
I was right. I should have kept quiet.
“Telling falsehoods is not the mark of a knight,” Sadem said. “You should—”
“Sadem, come forward,” Mux said, cutting off whatever the soldier was going to propose.
Once again, Sadem shoved his way through the crowd. “The blue myelur protects. It is not a weapon,” he said once he stood in front of Pendr and Captain Mux. “That is the light’s truth.”
“That is the light’s truth,” a few of the other men echoed.
Mux, still as stoic as from the moment Pendr had met the man, answered, “You are correct, Sadem.”
The statement hit Pendr as hard as any blow from a sword. Even the captain doesn’t believe me.
“Sadem,” Mux said. “Stand there. Three paces away from me to my side.”
Smugness masked Sadem’s face as he followed the instructions. Once in place, Mux raised his arm, mimicking Pendr’s earlier stance. The hair on the back of Pendr’s neck began to bristle, only slightly, and then something remarka
ble happened. Sadem flew backward, landing hard on his hindquarters.
Surprise replaced Sadem’s haughty expression. He went to speak, but Mux spoke first.
“You are right in that the blue myelur by itself protects. That is when it is used in a passive manner. However, when combined with the red myelur, something new is created. It is an active power, sometimes known as the purple myelur.” Motioning to Pendr, Mux said, “Rare are those who can wield the blue myelur, yet rarer still is one who can do as Pendr described.”
The men all turned to Pendr, most with awe showing in their eyes, though several held fear.
Chapter 37
Wyjec sat upon a throne of stone. Here, among the high trees of the mountains, was his kingdom.
When the Masters had referred to the mountains, Wyjec did not understand. Now he did. These were giants among the hills and plains—a perfect location both in isolation and symbolism for Wyjec to establish his dominance.
After the female wolf, Silk he had named her, joined his pack, along with her female companions, Wyjec thought about how he would force the wolves to create more of their kind. His intervention turned out to be unnecessary. The wolves acted on instinct, and shortly, Wyjec could tell by using the red myelur that each of the female wolves was carrying young inside them.
What Wyjec found fascinating is that each of the females would produce more than one pup at a time. Silk, the biggest and strongest female, had seven distinct heartbeats growing inside of her, whereas the others had in the range of four to six.
Admittedly, Wyjec knew little about how the process worked in humans, though he had deduced that most children were born one at a time. Because the wolves could create more per pregnancy, it would not take as long for him to build up is army—an army he would use to take revenge on those who had betrayed him.
In the mountains, the wolves found caves in which they made homes, including a large one for Wyjec. The air higher up in the mountains was colder, and heavy rains were not uncommon. The caves provided enough shelter to keep them dry, and Wyjec still relied on sleeping next to the wolves for warmth. But it was not enough.
The cold and damp air made Wyjec weak. During the days, he would shiver and was miserable in the process. Using the yellow myelur to drain the life from the still-alive food the wolves brought him helped, yet the power inside the rabbits and squirrels was small—usually enough to fight off the sickness from eating raw meat with a little to spare.
Now, in between rainstorms, Wyjec sat on a rock smoothed over the seasons by falling rain and gusting winds. Enough moss grew upon it to make it comfortable. From here, he could see the small gorge where they had settled. When not scouting or hunting, the wolves often ran free in an open meadow nestled within the gorge.
The land formation was an oddity, to find an open expanse among the rocks and trees seemed out of place. It’s just like me. I’m unique among other men. Moreover, it felt like home. It needed a proper name, Wyjec decided, though he could not pick one which truly represented it. It will come to me in time.
Thunder boomed in the distance, heralding another storm. The wolves stopped their activity in the meadow. Even from Wyjec’s vantage place, he could hear Alpha whistle/growl to the others. Immediately, the wolves headed toward their caves.
For the most part, the wolves had paired off. It did not surprise that Alpha and Silk became a pair. Wyjec shared their cave, where they kept him warm during the coldest of times. The impending rainstorm meant yet another long afternoon in the cave. Wyjec had little to do, now, with the wolves providing him food, the mountain springs offering clear water, and the cave giving shelter. For the first time since his exodus from Iredell, Wyjec realized something—he was bored.
It was an odd sensation. As a chardi serving the Masters, Wyjec usually worked from the time he woke until after the sun dipped passed the horizon. While he did have small breaks now and again, the times when he would eavesdrop on the Masters, they were never long enough for him to experience what he felt now—not having anything to do.
He sighed, and stood. Down a path, he had created an area where he discarded the bones and fur from the rabbits the wolves provided. It was far enough away from the caves, and his rock, for the smell of decomposing to stay away.
Today, as he headed to the cave, he paused while passing the area. He had eaten that morning, as well as later the day previous. Through repetition, Wyjec had become good at using sharp stones to separate the rabbit’s fur from its body. It made eating them much easier. The two pelts of the most recently consumed rabbits lay side by side. Strangely enough, the pelts of the animals he had drained using the yellow myelur did not decay like the bones and sinews of the corpses—the fur remained intact. Perhaps the myelur has something to do with that. A moment of inspiration hit.
The wolves and rabbits had fur to keep them warm. Wyjec’s clothes, those he had worn when at Iredell, were shredded and threadbare—they did little more than cover him. The rabbit skins by themselves were too small to cover his body unless he combined them somehow.
His clothes, tattered as they were, still stayed together because of thick stitching. Wyjec reached down and picked up one of the rabbit’s hides. Upon inspection, Wyjec imagined he could use one of the sharp rocks to punch small holes in the fur. Using the same technique as employed on his current garments, he could tie the hides together to make something larger. But what to use for thread?
Then, another answer came to him. His clothes consisted of cloth and thread. He could use that for starters, and perhaps, over time, he could figure out a way to make thread from rabbit fur.
The idea excited him, though he was unsure why at first. Soon, he understood. Because it will give me something to do, as well as solve one of my problems. He picked through the pile of discarded bodies and gathered the rest of the pelts. Remarkably, each of the hides showed no signs of decay. This shouldn’t be. Then again, there were many aspects of the myelur Wyjec did not fully understand. A spring returned to his step, one he did not realize he had lost, as he carried the pelts back to the cave.
Fat raindrops, falling heavily, began hesitantly at first, but by the time Wyjec made it to the cave, it was as if his shelter existed behind a waterfall. Fortunately, the floor of the cave’s mouth sloped toward the meadow, and a giant rock outcropping jutted over the top. This prevented the rain from gathering in Wyjec’s shelter.
Alpha and Silk were already in the cave, snuggled up next to each other. They gave him curious looks as he sat in the faded light and squinted at the collected pelts. Neither of the wolves moved nor made sounds aside from their breathing while Wyjec sorted through his assortment of sharp rocks.
One rock, which was stark in its blackness, had a fairly fine point as well as a wide base. It took Wyjec a few attempts, but eventually he created a small hole in a hide. He smiled triumphantly at the wolves, neither of which seemed to comprehend the significance of the accomplishment. No matter. It’s not for them to understand.
The work was slow and hard, but his time as a chardi prepared him for such tasks. Soon, Wyjec found a rhythm in his work, and then did something he had not done since … since … it had been so long he could not remember the last time he did it. He began to whistle a merry tune.
At that, the wolves did react. Alpha perked up his ears and lifted his head. His golden eyes stared at Wyjec with complete attention. That’s odd. Why would Alpha react that way?
Wyjec shrugged and went back to his work. He whistled three more notes and was interrupted when Alpha leaped to his feet. Instinctively, Wyjec called upon the blue myelur to protect himself. Alpha did not attack. Instead, he did something which chilled Wyjec more than the coldest night.
Alpha whistled at Wyjec using the same three notes.
Chapter 38
Revenge, vengeance, justice. Each of these words tumbled through Rheq’s mind as he walked. Instead of moving stealthily, as he had done when returning home to Umstead, he simply placed one foot in front of
the other. A particular destination did not drive Rheq’s movements. What motivated him was the need to get away from there.
The bodies of the dead, arranged like a giant haystack, had been charred—some beyond recognition. It was those Rheq could identify which haunted him: people he had known, people with whom he had grown up, faces twisted in agony from being burned alive. None of these villagers deserved such a horrific death. But those who did this to them? Yes, they were the ones who needed to suffer as they made others suffer. Revenge, vengeance, justice.
What was stranger still was that the crows had not been feasting on the dead. Rheq had seen them, circling overhead, but they had kept their distance. Of that, Rheq had no answer. Neither did he understand why there was no enemy present. Using the tracking skills learned as a youth and honed through his life, he could tell that a great number of men had walked through the field and then had headed south.
Initially, Rheq thought to follow them, to make them pay for what they had done. But if a whole village full of people could not stop them, what chance do I have? Burying the dead had felt like the proper thing to do. Logic overruled sentiment. The body count was much too high, and taking the time needed would have made Rheq vulnerable. He would have to honor the dead a different way. Revenge, vengeance, justice.
Numbly, Rheq headed north. The primary motivator was to get away from the horrors which had been his home. Rheq considered his next course of action. He needed to find help. Recruiting assistance would not be easy. But I don’t need to recruit soldiers; they have already conscripted me. He realized now that his goal was to return to King Viskum’s army—there he could tell the leaders what he saw. Certainly, they would help him do what he could not achieve on his own: Revenge, vengeance, justice.
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 15
