Seeing them, Nisha smiled and gave them a friendly nod, trying to keep the peace. Seeing her, they responded and—albeit slower and less enthused—four out of five of them—all of them except Darius—nodded back at her.
Instead of nodding, Darius hadn’t moved, deciding to stay where he was, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed across his puffed out chest. Responding to his sister’s well-meaning nod, he dug his fingers into his the sides of his armored triceps. And Nisha’s smile was met by the unmoving scowl painted across Darius’s face. And even as Nisha smiled even bigger at them and shrugged lightheartedly at her brothers—What? What are you staring at?—Darius’s face was stone.
Nisha rolled her eyes and thought, well, I tried. Before she could give it much thought, she got a welcomed distraction and felt a something furry bumping against her thigh and rubbing itself over the top of her armored-shin, sliding back and forth over her knee. Leaning to the side, she scratched the little wolf’s neck (a pup), and it leaned against her leg even more while its tail thumped against the stone wall behind her. Another wolf, midnight-black and larger than the first, came up and nudged at her shoulder, giving her another much-wanted, much-needed distraction. “That a good boy, Niko. I am glad you enjoyed the feasts, all of them. Food is power, remember.”
The midnight wolf’s nose dug into her ribs then bumped against her cheek—stamping it with thin layer of a cold, wet wolf-snot. Nisha giggled and pushed him away. “Yes, yes, there will be more meals—Yes, very soon. And you must eat to grow strong.” Niko responded with a variety of choppy wolf noises. Nisha understood him all the same. “No, I’ll eat next time… Since the anointing, I… I’m not hungry. Thank you though.” She rubbed his head. “Don’t worry. Your time will come soon enough… When? When you’re ready, but until then, you must eat and grow strong… You need to grow strong. Our family will need your strength, and you’ll need theirs. You too, Elza.”
Nisha pushed Niko away and scratched Elza’s (the pup’s) hear. Her ears were still limp, flopping around like a puppy’s would. Niko wasn’t having it.
At first grumbling and sounded like a poorly played horn, Niko grew restless. He sat up and looked up at Nisha with his two golden eyes, his tail sweeping over the marble floor beneath him. Panting, Niko let out another horn-like groan and pounced on her, over her. On his hind legs Niko was nearly twelve free taller, over twice as tall as she was, and with his front-paws on Nisha’s shoulder, she looked like she was being mauled by a giant black bear.
Nisha giggled and wrestled with Niko as his big black nose wetly thumped at her cheek. “Niko, down. No, not now. Yes, I love you. I love you too. Now go; go on. And take Elza with you—I need a minute.”
Nisha finally was successful at shoving the two wolves away, and she got a moment alone, a cold, depressing moment. Her smile washed away, and she grew somber. Her sadness was still growing inside her. Why do my brothers despise me?
Nisha looking over at them again and smiled at them, again, still trying to mend fences. But Darius was still scowling, and his eyes were blazing with a fiery hatred. Keeping his eyes on Nisha, he leaned to his left and whispered something to Arrous. Then—still staring at Nisha—he leaned to the right and whispered something else to his other brother, Brontus. Then Darius covered his mouth and muttered something else. All five broke out into snickering laughter, at her. Now it seemed like all of them were looking down at her with same hateful look that Darius had.
Then another distraction —a louder, more boisterous, and nobler one—arrived. Fenrir. With Clyde the smoker hooked under his arm, Fenrir stumbled through the forest of wolves and next to Nisha. “Nisha! Nisha, this one… This one is quite a scout,” Fenrir chuckled while he slapped Clyde’s chest—roughly but in good spirits. Shaking Clyde’s shoulder, Clyde’s head followed, bobbling around, and Fenrir bellowed out another laugh. “Aye, this one was quite a find. Young one, I assume you had a good hunt as well?”
Nisha forced a smile and said, “Yes, Father. It wasn’t bad.”
Fenrir chuckled again. “Father? Call me Fenrir. The ceremony is complete. Nisha, we are equals now… we will be equals. Until then, it is an adjustment, I know. With gods’ blood, it takes time for it to blend with your own and for it to mature within your veins. And it takes time for the memories to soak in and for the strength to rise within you. And Nisha, since wolves have—”
Fenrir stopped abruptly. His face turned serious, and he reached down and grabbed Clyde’s jiggling hand. “Son, we may be family, but if you light that cigarette in here… armored, fur-covered, or otherwise, I’m going to stick my boot so far inside you—into one of those body parts where boots aren’t supposed to go, and you’ll be shitting paw-prints for the next five years.”
“Sorry,” Clyde chuckled. “Old habits.” He tucked his cigarettes back into the pocket of his leather jacket. “I’ll go outside.”
Clyde stepped away, and Fenrir reached out and grabbed Clyde’s head—his hand larger than Clyde’s head, and he tousled Clyde’s hair. “Alright then. Go on. Smoke”
Nisha snickered. “Strange, huh? We’re reborn as wolves, but our old habits remain, the ones we had as mortals.”
“Aye, strange indeed.” Fenrir slid next to Nisha and leaned his back again the wall, the same as she was doing. After a short pause, he said, “Give them time.” He paused again then said, “Huh, I guess it don’t really make a difference. Wolves, rabbits, mice, gods, mortals; I guess it doesn’t really matter, not much at all.”
“Oh yeah?” Nisha chuckled. “And what’s that? What’s that that don’t matter much?”
“Girls mature faster than boys.” Fenrir said and smiled. “Your brothers will come around… one day they will.” After pausing again, he nudged her. “Maybe.”
Nisha laughed, and everything felt okay. And despite the stares from the other five, Fenrir and Nisha laughed and joked around and made small talk. Then they didn’t, and their attention was drawn to the growing number of surging growls slowly echoing through the cavern. The wolves were all gathering around each other, lumping together and padding towards the center of the throne room.
It was there where Fenrir and Nisha met the other five anointed new-gods. After an awkward moment and a few lingering stares between them, as a sign of mutual respect and unity, they nodded at each other. For the moment, despite whatever grudges were brewing, they were still a family, and more importantly, they all had a common concern.
The wolves’ growls were all aimed in the same direction, at one of the long, narrow corridors that led into the throne room. The massive pack of wolves was also staring at the same thing, the corridor and the light within it, the light at the end of the tunnel. The sound of banging metal echoed out of the light and into the throne room.
Again Fenrir and the other six nodded to each other, and they stepped forward, readying themselves for whatever was coming. Fenrir pulled his giant glaive from his back, and the other six held out their hands to side. A deep-purple light—like a tube of black light—filled their palms, exploding into purple dust, the lights and dust faded into long polished spears that ended in stretched-out, slotted black-steel that with sharp silver edges. The spearheads looked more like tactical knives than actual spearheads.
Down the long corridor at the far end of the throne room, whatever was coming came nearer, and the sea of wolves parted for the woman in silver armor. Her golden-brown mane swayed behind her like ocean waves and over the back of her glimmering white satin cloak that replaced her angel wings.
Mea exited the corridor and stepped into the throne room and through the sea of silently snarling wolves. The marbled floor lit up and glowed brightly, azure-blue like Fenrir’s eyes were currently doing. At the moment, the only sound was the light thumping of Mea’s heavily armored steps, and the muted grumbling of angry wolves. And Mea, fearless and without looking back, stepped through the parting wolves and approached Fenrir and his six anointed wolf-gods standing in the middle of the room
.
As Mea neared Fenrir, his family grew more suspicious, on edge, and restless. The wolves’ growls grew louder and angrier. Their grizzled muzzles scrunched up slightly higher and further revealed the two rows of fangs that each one held.
“Stand down,” Fenrir ordered. “Sit. You too, steady yourselves.” The last order was for his newly anointed who were clenching their spears a little tighter and aiming them at the approaching woman. “Nisha, Darius, the lot of you, calm yourselves. Loosen your spears. There will be no need for those. There will be no fighting, not tonight.” Hesitant, they obeyed, even Darius—although he did wait a half-second longer than the rest before finally complying. Fenrir noticed but decided to remain silent, again.
“Little lion,” said Fenrir. “It is nice of you to visit.”
“It’s nice to receive such a warm welcome.”
Fenrir’s stiff brow loosened, and he smiled, always oddly fond of the Golden Lion of Elysium—least he was with the past iterations. “Aye, a warm welcome. They cannot be blamed though. Our recent… guests (Blackwell, Raven… Leviathan) have been less than polite. No matter.” He gestured towards the stone staircase that led up to his stone throne. “Come. Let us discuss… whatever it is that you have come to discuss.” Nodding towards the stone stairs, he calmly turned away from Mea and led the way. A few steps in he finally sheathed his glaive, slapping it onto his back and beneath his fur cloak, where it had been from the start.
Fenrir’s six anointed were initially reluctant and surprised—even Nisha, and especially Darius. “Come,” Fenrir bellowed without looking back. Then they listened; finally turning and, after taking a few steps, slinging their spears over their shoulders, following Fenrir up the stairs. Mea waited a moment, to give them all a respectful and safe distance, and then followed them up.
Fenrir reached the summit of the stone steps first and decided to watch his six anointed children and the approaching woman behind them as they ascended the same mountain of stairs. Like a proud parent, he smiled and nodded at each one of his six anointed as their heads appeared over the cusp of the stairs, and his heart beamed with pride at the sight of them.
From the rear, Mea watched them as their six cloaks of wolf-fur swayed heavily behind them and their clenched spears waggled over their broad, armored shoulders. Mea’s own cloak—reminiscent of white satin and transmuted from her angel wings—swayed freely and elegantly behind her.
Almost all the way up the summit of stairs, Mea slowed down her pace and tried to conceal her heavy breathing. There were a lot of them, stairs. Over the berm of the marble steps, he could see Fenrir and his six anointed wolf-gods, three on each side of him. Their gaze was hard, and she could tell that they were battle-ready. Step by step, her eyes scanned the elevated platform of Fenrir’s throne room—out of both curiosity and caution. There wasn’t much of either—least none that she saw. Her pale, pink lips molded themselves into a flat-smile of indifference.
And Fenrir watched Mea as she looked around at everything else. Odd, he thought. This Lion, she is different. I have not met this Lion yet. I hope she fares better than her predecessor… and the one before him.
Pausing at the top of the mountain of stairs, Mea was still breathing heavy, heavier, and this time, she didn’t give a damn who saw. She glanced at Fenrir and jabbed a thumb behind her. “Stairs.” She shook her head. “So many stairs.” She shook her head again then looked over her shoulder, down at the sea of wolves below. And with their watchful, golden eyes, they were watched her too.
Out of breath, Mea remained confident and elegant as she looked around the wolf den, and neither the prior commotion nor the plethora of gritted wolf jaws seem to bother her too much. “Huh,” she said, turning back towards Fenrir. Her snowy cloak went back to swaying behind her as she took a few more steps forward. She certainly was a sight to behold. And aside from the dual blades strapped to her thighs, she looked quite beautiful and appeared more like royalty than some of those that were born with crowns on their heads.
“Please,” Mea said, gesturing towards Fenrir’s throne. “As you said, there will be no fighting, not tonight.”
Fenrir moved over to his large throne of carved, polished, and engraved marble. And setting his glaive aside, he plopped down on the seat of carved rock, and his six anointed ones lined up beside him—three on each side. Mea took a few more steps forward and watched as fourteen judgmental sapphire eyes lit up and began studying her every move.
Mea shook her head and laughed, a nervous laugh. They were all so serious.
That made Fenrir smile. Scratching his beard and chuckling, he said, “So the little lion has come for a visit. Last I had heard, you were dead—just three days ago.”
“More or less,” replied Mea. “And not dead, left for dead. And I was… I decided to take a vacation—a three day vacation.” She grinned. Not really remembering much of Fenrir, she didn’t really trust her memory either, whatever memories that happened to be flashing through her mind. Instead she went with her gut, her feelings; and Fenrir felt like an old friend. She hoped she was right.
“A vacation?” Fenrir roared, laughing boisterously. “That is funny. Yes, Lilly left you for dead, a mercy… and you took a vacation.”
“Mercy? I cut off her arm, and she left me for dead.”
Fenrir laughed again. “You took her arm, and yet she did not do the same. In fact she left you alive. Aye, like I said, mercy.”
Mea grinned and shook her head. I never thought of it like that. Then she wondered how Fenrir knew so much. What else does he know? “Wait. How’d you know that?” It was just three days ago when Lilly left her for dead—pinned to a wall in some New York penthouse, bleeding and poisoned. Wait and see, Lilly had told her, everyone you love will be dead. The world will burn. When you wake up it will be nothing but fire and ashes, that was what she told her.
“I have scouts.” Fenrir shrugged. He scratched his beard and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clyde the smoker in the back of his throne room, on the far-left, casually leaning against the wall and next to one of the corridors. Clyde was fumbling around in his pocket, and Fenrir knew what he was doing. Fenrir slid his hand over his armrest of polished marble and unleashed a subtle pointing finger and a long-distance raised eyebrow at Clyde.
Clyde looked up, raised his eyes up to Fenrir, long distance, and knew he was busted. Then he again tucked away his half-crumbled pack of cigarettes. “Aye, scouts. I have many scouts, good scouts, all over the world, throughout the world. I always have, even as we slept. Well… as I slept at least. You don’t sleep much, do you, little lion?”
“No, not much. Not lately,” Mea mumbled to herself and again looked over her shoulder and down over the wolves sprawled out below her. “I used to sleep a lot better (before all this)—I see you’ve completed your ceremony.” Starting with Darius on one side and ending with Nisha on the other end, Mea again looked over Fenrir’s six anointed, lingering on each one momentarily, sizing them up. “I hope they are worthy.”
“Worthy?” yelled Darius, puffing out his chest. Then, not surprisingly, he kept talking and made things worse. He pointed his spear at Mea and took a step towards her. “You! You are the one who is not worthy. You come into our house and disrespect us? That does not seem like worthy behavior to me.”
“Maybe not.” Mea said, shrugging, “but it was just an observation—call it quality control.” Darius took another step forward, and Mea’s hand slid across her waist, onto her hip, and onto the hilt of her sword. “I thought that there wasn’t going to be any fighting, not tonight.” Mea glanced at Fenrir, waiting for him to say or do something, anything. He didn’t and Darius took another step. So she said, “Or we can really find out who is— and who is not—worthy.” Darius scowled and took another step forward. This time the other five did the same, clenching their spears and pointing them at Mea. And Mea, with a flick of her thumb, loosened her blade from its scabbard.
“Yes,” Darius snipped, wringing his h
ands on the shaft of spear, letting it grind on his palms like sandpaper. “Let’s.”
“Enough,” Fenrir bellowed, slamming his fist onto his stone armrest. “I said no fighting, and I meant it.” Without looking back, Fenrir held up one of his meaty, open-palmed hands, and Darius begrudgingly halted his advance. Huffing, he steadied his spear and backed away to where he was standing, and the others did the same. Irritated, Fenrir snorted. “Little lion, why have you come here? What do you want?”
“To ask you for a favor, that’s all. The Cleansing…”
“Aye, the Cleansing. It is at hand.”
“And what will you do?” Mea asked.
“Us? We will cull the herd before the final judgement begins. My wolves and I will sweep over the land, cleansing it of the impurities, consuming the abominations of men, the monsters created out of mankind’s sins, the festering plague that corrupts goodness, the demons that hide inside the flesh of men as they prey up on the same ones they pretend to be.”
Doubtful and unassured by Fenrir’s answers, Mea asked, “Only the abominations?”
Fenrir sighed and shrugged. “Eh, some of the weak will die as well. Some of the innocents will also perish… I suppose. There are always a few innocent ones that die in the process, before the final judgement. It is unavoidable. Why do you care? More importantly, why should I care that you care? Didn’t you say… all gods must die?”
Apparently Fenrir’s scouts were really good.
Mea was slightly embarrassed and rolled her eyes while snickering nervously. Busted! She shrugged and said, “I didn’t know that you heard that.” Snorting again, Mea tried to backtrack. “Obviously, I didn’t mean you, you or your… six other, angry, anointed wolf-gods.” After another frustrated huff and a frustrated moment of silence, Mea bounced forward, stepping up to and onto the side of Fenrir’s throne—onto the side that Darius, Arrous, and Brontus were on. Showing no regard for her own safety or any respect for them, Mea walked past the three anointed ones and turned toward Fenrir, while also turning her back to them. Mea leaned over the top of the armrest of Fenrir’s throne and looked up at him.
The Awakening of the Gods (Forgotten Ones) Page 10
