“Those of you in your primary seasons of training, go to the kitchens. Your first task will be to ready supplies for everyone’s travels,” Janus said. “Secondary initiates, you will report to the quartermaster. There, you will prepare the packs each of you will carry.”
The friar peered over the group, with his eyes finally resting on Nestov. “Now go, your assignments will be given to you once preparations are completed.”
Nestov turned to follow the other secondary initiates when he heard Friar Janus say, “Nestov, not you.”
Some of the other boys gave Nestov weary glances as they left him standing alone in the hall.
“Follow me,” was all Janus said as an explanation.
Of all the initiates currently in the abbey, Nestov knew he had advanced the furthest in his training. It was the only reason he could guess for being singled out. Though the urge to ask questions spurred inside him, he thought it best not to speak until the friar presented more information.
With Nestov walking several steps behind the friar as a show of respect, he followed his teacher out of the hall and down a passage normally off-limits to initiates. It did not look different from any of the passages Nestov had seen before which made him curious what made this one different.
The passage made a sharp right, and when Nestov turned the corner, he understood. A staircase, made of stone like everything else in the Abbey, led up to the second floor—a place no initiate had been, at least to Nestov’s knowledge, which was the cause of much speculation.
“As with other things you’ve been taught,” Janus said, “you are not to speak of what you see or hear to anyone unless given permission.”
“Of course, Friar.”
Curiosity overrode anxiousness. What does the friar mean when he said darkness was coming? And, what, possibly, can I do about it? The steps led to a large wooden door covered in symbols carved into the surface. Nestov recognized a few of the images—he had seen them in several of the books he had read—though their meanings were unclear.
“Say nothing unless you are asked a question,” the friar said. “Understand?”
Nestov nodded, choosing that moment to remain mute.
Using only his right hand, Janus pushed against the edge of the door. It opened smoothly and silently, something Nestov would not have guessed possible based on its size.
The room beyond lacked windows, at least none Nestov could see. Tapers, most wide with long wicks, provided the only light. A feathered bed, made from a stone base and covered in thick quilts, sat in the middle of the room. Propped against the headboard was the oldest man Nestov had ever seen. Despite his age, he had a full head of hair which continued down the side of his face and merged into a long, neatly combed beard.
“This is the one?” the bed-ridden man asked. His voice was strong, conflicting with his physical stature.
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Friar Janus answered.
Your Holiness? I’m meeting with Abbot Aydomus? Of course, Nestov had heard of the leader of the church, yet no one—at least to his knowledge—had seen the abbot for longer than Nestov had been alive.
“Come closer, young one,” the abbot said.
Nestov did as instructed. Anxiety switched positions with curiosity, as indicated by the shaking in his legs, as he approached.
“You are Nestov, correct?”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
The abbot smiled, showing off straight, white teeth. “Friar Janus speaks highly of you. I pray his faith is not misplaced. We will need your strength.”
My strength? Nestov was small compared to others of an age with him, sometimes being mistaken for an initiate in his primary seasons by those who visited the abbey.
“I can see you have questions,” the abbot said, leaning forward. “As well you should. I want you to understand something important before I explain what will be required of you. You, Nestov, are a blessing during such times as we now face. You see, you are the first initiate in three generations to progress enough to learn the fourth mantra.”
Chapter 41
The view from the tower made Pendr’s stomach flutter, a feeling he normally associated with fear. Never before had he seen such a view. I wonder, is this what a hawk sees when searching for food? Pendr had counted one hundred and fourteen stairs when he climbed to the top of this, one of the towers next to the castle entrance. From here, he could see the greenery of trees stretch outward toward the horizon, to an edge which seemed to curve a bit at its most extreme. Patches of blue, which later he realized were lakes and ponds, interrupted the sea of green. Granted, there was a town of no small size surrounding the castle, but beyond that, nature ruled.
If the other soldiers training with him knew that being this high off the ground affected him so, perhaps they would not be so leery around him. Three days and nights had come and gone since Captain Mux demonstrated the power of the purple myelur, a force Pendr had used in his last battle. Though Pendr had yet to recreate the experience, Mux never wavered in his belief that Pendr spoke truly.
“Sometimes, it takes extreme emotions to trigger the myelur at first,” his captain had explained. “But as with any skill, the more it is practiced, the better you will become.”
The concept made sense. It was not that many winters ago when Pendr began working with his father by the forge. On that day, Pendr watched his father heat, bend, and hammer metal into something new. When his father gave Pendr a chance to try, the task seemed nearly impossible. Not unlike how I feel with trying to learn to use the myelur.
Metal boots clanging against the stone stairs indicated that his time alone in the tower was coming to an end. The room where Pendr stood was round. Four expansive openings faced in each direction. On the far side of the room, twenty paces from where he stood, the floor opened to the curved staircase—a twisted flight of steps which hugged the wall of the tower.
A conical metal helmet was the first thing to arise from the opening of the floor, followed by the rest of Captain Mux. The older man did not breathe heavily after the ascension, a testament to his strong health.
“Now that you’ve had time,” Mux said as a greeting, “what are your thoughts?”
Pendr had no quick answer to the question, and his leader said nothing else while he removed his helm. When Mux had told him to climb to the top of the tower and wait, he had not said why. Perhaps it was to allow Pendr to think without the distractions the training camp provided. Should I tell him I feel fear? After a moment of selecting the right words, Pendr answered, “From up here, I see more than I thought possible. It’s frustrating.”
“Frustrating, you say?” His captain strode toward him and stood next to one of the open windows. Gesturing to the view, he said, “What is frustrating about seeing so many trees?”
The question was not asked mockingly. Instead, it begged clarification.
“There is so much land out there,” Pendr answered immediately. “The town around the castle is large, yes. Certainly larger than my home of Logs Pond. When compared to the land around us, it seems ridiculous for men to fight over something when there is plenty enough for all.”
The edges around Mux’s eyes tighten. “You think we are at war over trees?”
“Not trees, specifically. The land on which the trees grow. After all, kingdoms are divided up by imaginary lines. When someone wants more, as with the attack on Iredell, men die. It’s pointless.”
“Tell that to the people of Iredell,” Mux said.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Pendr said. “I meant no disrespect.”
Mux shifted his shoulders and faced south. “Of that I’m certain. It’s not in your nature to be disrespectful, which means teaching you to use your power will be more difficult.”
“I— I— don’t understand.”
Pointing to his chest, Mux said, “The ability to combine the red and blue myelur comes from here: your heart, the source of your emotions. Those quick to anger or to react without thinking are those who
can learn to grasp the myelur quicker.”
“Then, are you saying your efforts are better spent helping someone else?” Though Pendr did not want to admit it, the idea of avoiding the myelur appealed to him. It’s a power I didn’t ask for, nor want.
“Pendr, I’m not saying that at all,” Mux said, his voice softened. “There’s a reason there are so few who can wield the purple myelur. It’s powerful, so much so that it can be destructive to the user.”
“You mean to the target of the user, correct?”
Mux shook his head. “I meant what I said. When a person draws upon both the blue and the red, it builds up, as you described. At what point did you release it?”
It took a moment for Pendr to think back on the incident. “I released it, not fully knowing what I was doing, right before the enemy was about to find shelter in the trees.”
“And what would have happened if you were in an open field without a place for him to hide?”
The question was odd, and not something Pendr had pondered. “I honestly do not know.”
“Let me tell you,” Mux said. “What most likely would have happened is that you would have let it continue to build inside you until your heart burst.”
“Wh— what?”
“Those who are not trained do not know the strength of the power and its limits. Most of them die the first time they try to use it.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Pendr said.
“That’s because most healers do not know what to look for after it has happened. They wield the green myelur, which while related, is as different as a leaf is to water or fire. The point is this: you have a special talent, one which can help prevent the killing of more people. By the light, we found you before the worst happened.”
Pendr found the statement to be odd in context. He had been forced into an army, left his home, seen friends he had known his entire life die before him, Danla, a girl for whom he cared more than he thought, was in danger, and now he discovered a power which could potentially kill him. Or, worse yet, he could be turned into a weapon. In many ways, the worst has already happened to me.
“Tell me, Pendr, what is it you want?” Mux asked after a long pause.
“To be with my family and the ones I care about. To not see more senseless deaths. To live a happy life, doing what I love.”
“Unless you help us,” Mux said, “that can never be.”
“I don’t see what I can do which can make a difference. From what I’ve heard in camp, the siege on Iredell worked.”
“I’ve heard the same, and that’s because it’s true.”
“Then why—”
Mux interrupted. “What I share with you now is to be kept between us, understand?”
“Of course, Captain.”
“We have reclaimed Iredell. The enemy soldiers left the town at night and rushed one of our encampments. Many died on both sides, but reports say that their leader and a handful of his men made it back to Sothcar. But this war was never about Iredell.”
“That’s not what we were told when we were conscripted,” Pendr pointed out.
“Because at the time, that was an honest belief. We don’t know everything, but from what we have been able to gather, the Masters who ruled Sothcar are dead, including one who was at Iredell. A new leader has taken over, Avadi is his name, and with him, the rules have changed.”
Pendr felt himself frown and then tried to force his face back to a more neutral expression. “I’ll admit I know little of the rules of war.”
“Let me clarify,” Mux said. “In the past, large armies gathered and fought each other over the right to rule parts of the land. Not this time. The soldiers from Sothcar are attacking at random—sometimes with small forces, sometimes with several dozen soldiers. The result has been the same. The lands where people are killed are not occupied by the enemy. They just move on and kill more.”
“Why would they do that?”
“That, Pendr, is a good question. Unfortunately, the answer is simply this: we don’t know.”
Chapter 42
The wolves communicated to each other using a combination of whistles and growls—that much Wyjec had observed, though he could divine no meaning. That began to change.
Over the last several days, Wyjec had methodically sewn together the rabbit pelts to create a cloak of sorts. He habitually whistled when he worked, and much to his surprise, Alpha had begun to imitate the notes perfectly. Granted, there was not a meaning associated with the sounds at first. Soon, he began to recognize that the wolves would make certain sounds when they were about to go hunting—specifically when Alpha instructed the other wolves to do so.
It took some practice, but Wyjec was able to approximate the whistle/growl combination when he wanted the wolves to hunt. It was not much, but it worked.
Today, while Wyjec sat on the stone he had dubbed a throne, he watched the wolves run around the open field, as well as through the forest of the gorge which they had settled in the mountains. The sun had been up long enough that Alpha should have brought Wyjec a rabbit or squirrel, yet there was no sign of the large wolf. Wyjec had told Alpha to go hunting before the sun came up. It was unlike the wolf to take so long.
Trying to ignore the hunger pains, Wyjec considered his next move towards revenge. He did not know how long before the females would give birth, let alone how long it would take the wolves to mature enough to be able to fight. It could be many seasons. The concept was frustrating, yet Wyjec had no idea how to accelerate the process. Would Captain Avadi still be alive when Wyjec was finally ready? The last time Wyjec had seen his betrayer was in Iredell—a town surrounded by the enemy. If he lives, I’ll find him. Then, he will know the price for treachery.
Wyjec stood, deciding that getting at least a drink of water would help chase away his hunger. A clear stream flowed not far from his throne. The water was cool and refreshing, and Wyjec took his time to savor as the liquid washed down his throat. Dipping his cupped hands for another drink, he heard movement behind him. Unlike the times when wolves approached him, this was different. Whatever was moving did so quickly.
Gathering the blue myelur as protection, Wyjec then stood to face what approached. When the animal came into sight, Wyjec took a step back, nearly falling into the stream. It was Alpha, bloodied with three deep grooves cut into his fur. He’s been hurt!
Wyjec rushed to Alpha’s side. The wolf whistle/growled urgently. Whatever the wolf was trying to communicate, Wyjec could not understand. Alpha stepped backward, continuing his urgent attempt to communicate. Wyjec took a step towards the wolf, only for Alpha to back away even further. The animal was not acting afraid, but rather in a way that he wanted something. He wants me to follow him. With a flick of his hand, Wyjec indicated for Alpha to go. Seemingly satisfied that his master would follow, Alpha turned and headed down the path.
Instead of going toward the cave where they had made their home, Alpha led Wyjec further north along the mountain side. Traveling was more difficult here, with no real path to follow. The blue myelur still surrounded Wyjec, a wise precaution he thought because of the recent attack on Alpha. The unfortunate side effect was that the protection was weakening his already low energy.
While they traveled, Wyjec scanned for any living thing from which he could draw strength. Insects flitted by, their red myelur twinkling like stars in a night sky. It wouldn’t be enough. Abruptly, Alpha came to a stop. His hair bristled, and his whole body taut. Ahead was the mouth of a cave—larger than any they had found thus far.
Alpha growled menacingly toward the gaping maw on the side of the mountain. Whatever hurt him must be in there. For a moment, anxiety skimmed over Wyjec, but he dismissed it. I’m protected with the blue myelur. Nothing can hurt me. Those thoughts fled, however, when a giant, black bear charged from the cave.
Stunned by the sight, Wyjec stood transfixed as the beast barreled into him. Although the myelur protected him from feeling pain, it did not stop him fro
m being knocked over and against a rock outcropping.
The bear roared, flashing his teeth. A huge paw raised and with claws extended, the bear swiped at Wyjec. The result should have been Wyjec’s disembowelment. Instead, the claws raked across his middle without leaving a mark—at least on Wyjec. The action of the bear hitting an impenetrable force caused two of the bear’s claws to bend backward at an unnatural angle.
If it was possible for a bear to show surprise on its face, that is what Wyjec perceived. More than that, he searched out for the bear’s red myelur to control it. It was easy enough to spot, though another idea came to him: the yellow myelur. He reached out a hand, touched the bear, and the yellow threads appeared. He pulled on the threads vehemently.
Right away, Wyjec felt better. His strength began to return. Harder and faster, he continued to drain the energy from the huge beast. The use of the yellow myelur seemed to paralyze the bear. Shortly, Wyjec felt as alive as he could remember—and still, there was more he could draw from the dying bear who had collapsed at his feet, twitching.
Alpha chose that moment to join in by jumping on the back of the bear and sinking his teeth into the larger animal’s neck. Though the yellow myelur refilled Wyjec’s energy, the scent of blood and raw meat appealed to Wyjec’s base need to eat. Alpha clawed away at the bear’s hide, revealing red meat beneath.
Instinctively, Wyjec climbed next to Alpha. Together, they feasted on the bear, its heart still beating. Wyjec continued to draw upon the yellow myelur to offset the effects of eating raw meat. He realized he could end the bear’s life quickly enough now, but decided against it. Let the bear understand what happens to those who hurt my family.
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 17
