Shell's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  He talked until almost dark when they paused long enough to gather firewood. They sat and chewed on cold venison strips as Quester asked questions and Shell did his best to answer. Eventually, the questions came slower, and Shell tired of talking and needed rest, Quester, sat watching the small fire and thinking.

  Quester said, “In my family, there is a saying about the soldiers in the King’s Army building large bonfires and how they sit well away from them at night. The Dragon Clan builds small fires and sits close.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure, but I remember that story from before they killed my people. I think it means you can be just as warm with a small fire if you sit closer. It’s unnecessary to build a large fire some of the time. My family did not desire to rule the world or build great structures. I think it is about a way of life.”

  Shell waited, then when nothing further came, he asked, “You have a point?”

  “Well, yes. A few days ago, I didn’t have a family. Today you revealed, we are related, and that I have hundreds or even thousands of family members. People who believe like me. People who build small fires. Then, you tell me they are attacked by a king and invaders from across the sea.”

  “I understand you, so far.”

  “I want to help with the fight. I want to travel with you to Breslau.”

  Shell’s eyes closed as if shutting Quester out. He said, “I can’t let you do that.”

  Quester stood. “You can’t stop me from doing what I want.”

  “Wait, that came out all wrong. I didn’t make myself clear,” Shell said, “We’ll go together, that is part of why I’m here. But first, I must take you to the Bear Mountain Family. You’ll share what you know. That will help all of us much more than having one more fighter for a few days. After you tell your story, we can continue to Breslau.”

  “Why is it so important? What can the people of Bear Mountain do that’s so important?”

  “Messengers. The council will listen, and then they send out two or three messengers to other Families, and those Families will send out their messengers to repeat the information until all know the story about more of our people living in the east. I expect messengers will also be dispatched to locate the Dragon Clan to the east to tell them about us. We have to pull together before the Dragon Masters of Breslau invade our land, kill us and our dragons because they will then move on to your lands.”

  “You can’t know they will do that.”

  “And you can’t know they won’t.”

  Quester’s shoulders slumped. “Alright. We’ll do what you say, but after Bear Mountain, I will go to Breslau even if I do it alone.”

  “Agreed.” Shell thought about putting his hand out to shake but was too tired. He closed his eyes for the final time until morning.

  Before the sun tinged the grasslands pink again, he woke with a start. Danger. The single word filled his mind. He sat up, throwing the covers back violently.

  Quester lay beside him, still asleep. Shell’s mind was still foggy from sleep, but deep in his mind the word resonated and repeated, like a long continuous growl. Ddaannggeerrrr. It was the voice of the wolf.

  He shook Quester’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Quester sat up, his hand reaching for his knife. What is it?”

  “Danger,” Shell said no more, but he gathered his belongings and soon stood with his pack on his back, his bow over his shoulder. Then he kicked the coals aside and used his foot to cover the ashes with dirt.

  Quester had his things ready, too. He hissed, “What is it?”

  The wolf was slowly coming closer, from the direction they intended to travel as if following or stalking something. Shell pointed to the trees downhill. “That way.”

  Without another word, Quester took the lead.

  Shell said, “No, you follow. You’re better at this than me. Make sure we leave no trace to follow.”

  A wary expression and slight hesitation told of Quester’s confusion, but he obeyed. Shell moved quickly down the hillside and up another, using a game trail most of the way. He kept the location of the wolf foremost in his mind, and as they reached the top of that hill, he pulled to a stop where they could see their old campsite.

  The wolf was now in an almost direct line past the campsite, although he couldn’t see it in the growing light of dawn. However, Quester’s hand reached out and gripped his wrist, his eyes locked on a dark shadow moving along their intended path. It was a man. No, there were two. Three.

  Three people spread out and moved quietly in the early dawn. They crept from shadow to shadow, as if knowing exactly where the camp was located and what they would find there. About a hundred steps from the camp, all three paused at a signal from the one in the center.

  Quester’s grip tightened. Shell had forgotten he still held him. But he didn’t object. He watched them creep closer, and as the first light appeared, he saw their hands held in the positions they would if they held weapons, probably spears. If the sun rose higher, he had no doubt he’d see the sparkle of sunlight on iron.

  They moved in unison, side by side, closer and closer to the campsite. Then, as one, they rushed ahead. All three reached the dead fire and stood in confusion, obviously talking. They spread out again in the increasing light, searching for tracks. It didn’t take long to find them.

  One looked to where the trucks traveled, and his gaze searched the hillside where Shell and Quester stood. Shell felt naked and exposed, but Quester hissed, “Stay still. He can’t see us unless we move.”

  “I think those are the highwaymen from the river.”

  “They should have let you pass when they had the chance. Look what they brought on themselves,” Quester said. He slipped his bow from his shoulder and strung it.

  Shell glanced around and found there were several places to hide in ambush. When the three reached them, and he had no doubt they would, he and Quester could each fire an arrow from so close they wouldn’t miss, then take on the third man. Quester would probably take down two of them with his archery skills.

  As he was planning, a flurry of motion at the campsite caught his attention. A brown blur appeared from the brush, raced at the three men, and disappeared into the forest as quickly as it appeared. As fast as that, two of the men were on the ground screaming in pain while the only one standing held a knife and spear in front of himself to defend from another attack.

  “What happened?” Shell asked softly, his voice emerging as a croak.

  “You tell me,” Quester said.

  “Something attacked them. Lucky for us, we left.”

  Quester still watched the campsite, but when he turned to look at Shell, he said, “Yes, we were lucky to wake up from a sound sleep and know silent enemies were getting near. Very lucky, if you ask me.”

  Shell said, “I think I must have heard them out there and it woke me.”

  Quester turned and started walking again. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Quester remained quiet all morning. Shell allowed him to sulk because he had a good reason. While Quester didn’t know exactly what had happened when they woke, he didn’t believe the weak story Shell had fed him. Just as the trust issue between them almost healed itself, a new breach appeared that Shell didn’t know how to resolve, mostly because he didn’t understand it himself.

  What he did know was that a wolf, at least he thought it was a wolf, managed to touch his mind and set itself up as his protector. He knew the animal was now ahead of them sweeping back and forth, either hunting food or enemies. He didn’t know how or why, and no story he’d ever heard about related to such a strange thing.

  In short, what he didn’t know far exceed what he did. Sharing any of it might prove dangerous in the future—or make him look a fool. Shell was not sure which was worse.

  Shell said, “We need to travel more to the right. The southern slopes are where the dragons and Family are supposed to be.”


  “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

  “I’m not. I’ve never been there, and I’m following clues I’ve heard all my life.”

  “Couldn’t you have asked someone?”

  Shell didn’t like the tone Quester had used all morning. “Hey, I may have saved your life this morning.”

  “If you had put an arrow into each of their legs when they attacked you at the river, we wouldn’t have the problem, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

  “Is that what you would have done?” Shell asked.

  “Maybe. Then I would have told you all about it.”

  Shell didn’t miss the emphases on the single word, but he ignored it. If the situation were reversed, he would probably feel the same. “Did you get a look at that wolf?”

  “No, it burst from cover too fast, too unexpectedly. By the time I saw it, the thing was already headed back into the trees.”

  Shell continued to walk and think. The trees had gradually closed in around them, adding a protective cloak around them as they moved. While the trees hid the two members of the Dragon Clan, they also hid anyone else in the forest. Twice they smelled smoke, and once the wolf had warned Shell to avoid an area. He had the impression a bear was eating a kill and protecting her cubs at the same time.

  The problem became how to tell Quester. He solved it by telling him to turn in a more southerly direction, and he had without question. As strange as it sounded, the advance knowledge of danger placed him in an awkward situation.

  There were plenty of stories of Dragon Clan bonding with dragons, sharing thoughts and a dozen other advantages, but he had never once heard of someone bonding with a wolf. Although bonding didn’t seem the right word in this instance, not like fully bonding with a dragon had been explained to him. This felt different.

  Maybe the ability to see through a dragon’s eyes didn’t happen right away. No, it had been that way with Raymer and his dragon. Right from the first. Other than warn him of danger, what else could the pairing? He refused to think of it as bonding. But it brought up another aspect he needed to answer. Would the wolf do anything he asked?

  How can I ask it to do something? A test? The wolf didn’t speak like people. He didn’t hear with his ears. Even what touched his mind was often unclear, more of an impression than specific communication. The few times it had happened, other than knowing the location of the wolf, had been inklings of information, faint feelings that were almost like experiencing a dream while awake.

  As he walked, his mind remained busy thinking about the wolf, and his hands and arms were busy twirling, thrusting, and jabbing his staff to the beat of his steps. Like dancing, using a staff proficiently involved balance, practice, and initiative. But overall, it amounted to the repetition of predetermined moves without thinking about them, and that provided him his best defense—and offense. As he parried an imaginary blow, the next move often involved an attack without conscious thought.

  Since Quester was still somewhat upset with him and remained quiet, Shell allowed his mind to drift to the subject of the wolf, and the strange association developing between him and a creature he’d seen only once, for not much longer than the blink of an eye. No, twice, for two blinks. Would the connection they had affect his ability to bond with a dragon? If so, was that a concern? Like all Dragon Clan members, he wished to bond for life with one of the magnificent flying dragons, but only a few people per generations did so. Therefore the chances were small that he ever stood a chance.

  But he had something else, although he readily admitted he didn’t know what, or how long it might last. An idea sprang into his mind, and he almost dropped his staff and stumbled to a halt.

  “You all right?” Quester asked.

  “Sweaty hands,” Shell lied, then began walking again.

  But it was not sweaty hands that caused the stumble. Can I initiate communication with the wolf? Will she do as I ask? The idea he’d had earlier about a test came roaring back into his thoughts.

  Those two questions flooded his mind with other questions that he pushed from the forefront of his mind. The answers to all those other thoughts depended on answering those two.

  Gingerly, he searched for, and found, the place in his mind that told him the wolf had moved further ahead, and was now slightly off to his right, probably on the side of the hill he saw in the near distance. He touched that place in his mind and tried to imagine the wolf quickly moving to the other side of the valley, to the opposite hillside.

  Disappointingly, he received no confirmation and decided to let the matter drop until he had the time to pursue it alone. He would also like to draw the wolf closer and get a good look at it. He sensed it was a female, larger than most, but not unduly so. But he wished to lay eyes on her to give it substance, more than faint whispers in his mind.

  The wolf’s position was shifting. As Shell monitored it, the wolf moved across the road to the other hillside. It had been sweeping back and forth all morning as if making sure the way was clear, and this might be another instance, a coincidence, but he didn’t think so.

  The hills they traveled grew steeper, the vegetation now mostly evergreen, and the air smelled clear and crisp, with a hint of damp pungency. The grasslands had never smelled like it, and Shell decided it held a hint of the perfume a woman in Springtown had worn. He smiled at the memory.

  “Look,” Quester hissed in a whisper, but kept walking.

  Shell followed his gaze and on a ridge where few trees grew. A smudge of brown on the green hillside pulled his attention. The wolf. She showed herself. Just as he’d asked.

  Their communication was two-way. The action confirmed it, although he doubted he could make the wolf do something it didn’t want to do. But he could ask, possibly direct, and she could warn him of danger as it had already done. Despite the limitations of speech and perhaps other limitations yet unknown, Shell realized he possessed something perhaps nobody else in the world did.

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  “If it’s not stalking us for a meal,” Quester said.

  “No, it has had plenty of opportunities to do that if it wanted.”

  Quester had stopped and watched the wolf. “It’s as if it protected us back there with those highwaymen.”

  “That’s silly,” Shell said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Like you said before, animals don’t think. They react.”

  “True, but I’m beginning to wonder if that wolf is sick or injured. It doesn’t act normal. We have to be wary.” Quester continued to stand and watch it with obvious interest.

  To draw his attention away, Shell said, “It doesn’t look hurt. In fact, it looks more than healthy.”

  “Then that’s one more thing to worry about. When it gets hungry, it knows where we are. Either of us would make a good meal for it, so I’m going to carry my bow from now on.”

  That didn’t work out like I wanted. “I don’t see any reason to overreact.”

  Despite what he said, Quester unslung his bow and pulled an arrow, but he didn’t string the bow. The longer a bow was strung, the weaker it became as the wood conformed to the new shape. Quester had the string resting in a groove where he could place one end of the bow on the ground and slide his hand upward and the bow would be strung and ready in a few seconds.

  If Quester strung it to use on the wolf, he would order the wolf to run or grab his friend to spoil his aim, if necessary. He would not allow the wolf to be hurt. The idea occurred to him that he was as protective as the wolf was. “You still mad at me?”

  “You’re a poor liar is all I have to say. You’re holding back. I’ll let you tell me more when you trust me. For now, I’ll put it aside—but won’t forget.”

  Quester walked on in silence, without once glancing behind at Shell or he would have seen the embarrassment and the conflict he felt. Shell considered telling it all to Quester, but since he had never heard of a member of the Dragon Clan and a wolf bonding together, he wondered if he would be considered an ou
tcast or worse. They might think him and the wolf mutants.

  Besides, he knew very little of the facts of what transpired between him and the wolf. The change in position when he asked for it could have been coincidence, and even spotting her could have happened without his mental suggestion.

  But the warning that woke him and the attack on the highwaymen was not mere happenstance or coincidence. The wolf had known Shell was in danger and woke him. That was a fact, as was the ability to know where the wolf was located at any time. Things were happening Shell didn’t understand or know how to explain.

  Shell found he used different muscles for walking when most of the way was uphill. His legs ached, and his breath came in short gasps. Looking at Quester, he found the other at least as tired as he. “We don’t have to go so fast.”

  “If we hope to get to Breslau and help before the battles are fought, we need to hurry.”

  “You didn’t even know of Breslau two days ago.”

  “If I had,” Quester panted and drew in a deep breath to finish his sentence, “I would already be there.”

  Shell looked to his left in awe of the mountain looming above. It grew larger every day, yet he never seemed to get closer. Their footing grew treacherous. The soft loam of the grasslands had gradually given way to coarse rock under a thin layer of dirt. The gray rock protruded above the dirt in many places, and where the paths and trails they followed were the steepest, only a thin layer of sand and gravel covered the solid rock, making the surface not only steep but as slippery as ice on winter mornings.

  At every vantage, overlook, or unobstructed viewpoint, Quester insisted on pausing and watching ahead to make sure no possible enemies were there. Shell monitored the wolf and knew the way was clear but couldn’t say anything.

  Twice he felt the wolf slip behind them and check their back-trail before moving ahead again. They ate slices of venison as they moved, stopping at streams now and then, but never once saw evidence of other humans. Shell dropped two slices of venison in the middle of the trail and enjoyed tracking the location of the wolf as she moved to their rear and ate the treats.