Gray cocked his head to the side. “But isn’t the Shrine in the middle of the Highlands? That has to be a hundred leagues from here.”
“The Shrine is actually in the southernmost region of the Highlands to be precise and less than a day’s hike north of the Wall. However, the entire region is now controlled by the Dark Alliance.”
“And how are we going to get there?”
“Magic, pure and simple.” Anasazi grinned. “I will open a portal that will take you to the base of the Shrine. This time I will stay behind and keep it open, just in case you need to make a fast getaway.”
“But what do I do once I’m there?”
“You will have to rely on Red Crow’s expertise to guide you through the actual ritual.”
Graytael nodded and wolfed down the leftover roasted rabbit. He doubled checked his equipment, stepped forward and signaled that he was ready. Without another word, the ancient shaman stuck the tip of his staff into the fire and spoke in a language that the half-elf did not understand. A large shimmering portal opened up right in the middle of the fire. Gray closed his eyes and stepped into the glowing light. He felt a brief rush of heat followed by intense cold. When he opened his eyes and looked around, he knew at that moment he was in the land of his father.
He was standing at the bottom of a hill that seemed completely out of place in the surrounding forest. There were no trees growing on it, nor were there any flowers, weeds or bushes, just a thick layer of grass. A very intense peaceful feeling radiated from the hill. Gray turned around to take in the rest of the forest and quickly sucked in a breath of air.
The surrounding forest was dark and felt….evil. That was the only word that came to his mind as he gazed on the woods. There was some obvious evidence of timber harvesting, trees cut down and hacked into smaller sections but it was done in such a haphazard fashion, one had to wonder if they were actually harvesting and not just destroying the woods.
There was one other odd aspect concerning the Shrine. The surrounding area, the forests and lands all around were snow covered, but not the grassy knoll with the white stone shrine on top of it. It remained as if it was early spring, completely untouched by the lands and seasons around it.
When the ghost of Red Crow appeared and saw the devastation, he was speechless. If it had been possible, Gray believed that he would have cried. The ghost stared at the ruined forest for several minutes before forcing himself to turn his back on the desolate landscape and focused his attention to the top of the hill. From their vantage point, the ring of white stones seemed to glow in the early moonlight.
“The legends of our people tell us that this is the exact location where Luna landed when she brought our ancestors north after the first god-war. The Shrine was built by them in homage to our goddess. Each Maenhir was set down to represent the Spirits of the Wild which were to act as our guides.”
Gray wrenched his eyes away from the Shrine to focus on the nearly transparent ghost. “Red Crow, I’m sorry but what’s a Maenhir?”
“Good, you are listening.” The ghost grinned and paused briefly before explaining. “Maenhir is an ancient word for ‘long-stone.’ Sometimes it is translated as ‘man-stone’ but that is actually incorrect. The maenhirs stand as silent sentinels to watch over the sacred shrine. ”
Graytael nodded but remained silent.
“Tonight’s ritual can be traced back to the beginning of our people. Luna selected Oroqen, a hero of the first god-war, to be the first shaman. She imparted to him the knowledge needed to contact the Spirits of the Wild and through this understanding, the ability to cross into the spirit realm. Our entire way of life evolved out of this ritual.”
“Why have I not heard of this Oroqen before?”
Red Crow looked sad as he continued. “Our histories and traditions are passed down orally. As much as I hate to admit it, some things are lost in the telling. I’m sure you also haven’t heard of the Schism, have you?”
“The what?”
Red Crow smirked. “Before the end of our second generation in the Highlands, nearly two-thirds of our people had forsaken the teachings of nature and migrated south to warmer lands. These became the ancestors of the humans. Those which remained true to her teachings gained the blessings of our totem animals.”
“The Highlanders’ shape-shifting ability.”
Red Crow nodded. “Yes but that is only a recent change in the blessing.”
“But I thought that was how it has always been.”
“Nay. The truth be told, we are a people in decline. We once lived in a grand city far to the north. Every Highlander seemed to have an affinity to a particular totem but served all of them in the name of Luna. It was only after we became more barbaric, more tribal and less civilized that our people gain the ability to shapeshift.”
Graytael shook his head. “Why have I not heard this before?”
“Because it was not known. Honestly, while I was alive, I did not know the complete truth. Our people have tried to remain true to the Code of the Wild but after five millennia, we have forgotten much and even so those traditions that we have remembered have deviated from the original path.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“It is good that you know our true history when you confront the Spirits of the Wild.”
“Confront?”
“Every Avatar of the Wild is different. For example, the Bear and the Wolverine like to test their applicants.”
“Test?”
“Fight. While the Owl and Raven tend to challenge them with word games and riddles.”
Graytael nodded. “So, my challenge will be dictated by whichever Avatar of the Wild answers my call?”
“Yes.”
“Out of curiosity, what about the wolf?”
“First off, just because your father was a wolf doesn’t mean that you will be one. Many times siblings find themselves at odds with their parents and are chosen by a different avatar. It doesn’t or didn’t happen as often in recent memory as it did in my youth but it can happen.”
Gray cocked his head to the side as he tried to grasp everything the ghost said. “But I thought each tribe was dedicated to one totem?”
“True but only in recent times. Those individuals which ended up with a different totem from their parents would be adopted by a different tribe.”
“Interesting. I’ve always thought that I was destined to be a wolf.”
“And you might be but remember it’s not your choice. The totem chooses the warrior, not the other way around.”
Gray nodded. “So, what now?”
Red Crow pointed to the crest of the hill. As the nearly full moon rose higher in the night sky, the white stones of the shrine seemed to glow brighter. “It’s simple. Sit on the altar, clear your mind and pray to Luna for guidance. And of course, trust your instincts.”
Graytael took a deep breath and began the slow climb up the grass-covered hill. Once he reached the ancient maenhirs, he could not help but run his hands over the smooth white stones. They were cool to the touch but not as cold as he would have thought given the near freezing temperatures in the region. As he moved through the shrine, a calm sense of peace flowed over him. It was subtle. It was relaxing. It was humbling but at the same time, familiar. He realized that it was similar to the feelings he had experienced standing under the boughs of the Beriadan but where that sensation was the celebration of life, full of warmth and renewal, this was more like the cold reality of life. There was nothing romantic about it, everything lives and dies. Everyone is predator or prey, the cycle of life. It was actually a sobering feeling for someone so young and innocent in the ways of the world to be confronted with the ancient secret of life.
However, it did bring to the surface of his memory last night’s dreams but it also changed his viewpoint of them. The life and death struggle depicted in them no longer seemed as disturbing but just an extension of the Code of the Wild; kill or be killed. In his dream, his perspective c
hanged to that of predator and prey. He was the alpha hunter and everyone else was just prey.
The wind seemed to whisper to him that something was not right in his understanding of the Code of the Wild.
Even as he climbed on top of the altar and crossed his legs, his mind was filled with visions of a wolf pack hunting a herd of elk. The wolves worked in unison to take down the weakest deer. Additionally, the pack would not kill any more than they could eat. There was nothing malicious in their actions. They hunted and killed to survive. Nothing more and nothing less. Their actions actually served to strengthen the elk herd.
Even as he contemplated that simple fact, more images flashed through his mind of a similar theme. The eight other animal totems: wolverine, bear, fox, lynx, puma, boar, owl and raven went about their lives. Each totem stalked and killed their prey without malice or glee. They only killed to eat or to protect their homes. Even then, many times they would not kill. The victor of the conflict would display dominance and allow the loser a chance to submit. Once this hierarchy was established, the loser would move off and the victor went back to his own business.
One part of Graytael’s mind began to question why he was having these visions. Before he could really make sense of them, he heard a voice in the wind. Actually, it was more like a chorus of voices speaking at the same time.
“Welcome Chosen One.”
Gray blinked in disbelief at what his eyes showed him. He rubbed them but the images did not change. The maenhirs of the shrine had taken on the forms of the nine animal totems of his father’s people.
After their initial greeting, the animal spirits remained quiet but seemed to be silently probing his mind.
Gray slowly turned to face each avatar starting with the Wolf spirit. He would meet their inquisitive gazes for a moment and bow his head slightly before moving on to the next spirit. When Graytael completed his pass and returned to his seat, the Wolf Spirit spoke.
“Well met, cub. You have shown us great honor in your visit and in your actions.”
Gray lowered his head in respect. “No Great One, it is I who am honored. This is beyond anything I was prepared for or told about.” That is when he noticed that he was alone and Red Crow was nowhere to be seen.
The Raven Spirit spoke. “I have sent the ghost of my faithful back into the pouch you wear. Do not worry, when you need him in the future, he will come.”
The Bear Spirit added. “We wished to talk with you alone.”
“What is it that you require from me?” asked Gray. He did he best to face whichever Spirit was talking but the Avatars seem to like to complete each other’s sentences and thoughts making it nearly impossible.
The Boar Spirit responded, “Nothing.”
The Puma Spirit said, “We have seen into your heart and soul…”
“…and you are beginning to understand the Code of the Wild,” added the Lynx Spirit.
The Fox Spirit said, “The truth of the matter is simple…”
The Wolverine Spirit said, “…life is a struggle and only the strong will survive.”
The Owl Spirit added, “In the very near future, you will be tested…”
The Boar Spirit continued, “…even though the journey before you will be long and dark, you must survive.”
The Bear Spirit said, “You must be strong.”
“And at times ruthless,” added the Wolf Spirit.
The Raven Spirit said, “But know that we will be watching you…”
Owl Spirit continued, “And when the time is right…”
Fox added, “…you may call on us.”
Gray cocked his head to the side and contemplated what that actually meant. Unsure of the truth, he resigned himself to ask. “What do you mean, call on you?”
The Puma Spirit moved forward. Its spectral head seemed as large as his whole body. “Traditionally when a warrior presents him or herself to us, we peer into their hearts and decide which of us matches their natural disposition the best.”
The Raven Spirit picked up the explanation. “That individual is then able to draw on our essence and become infused with a small portion of our power.”
Gray nodded. “You mean the ability my father had to shape shift into a wolf or the blending of man and wolf.”
The Wolf Spirit nodded. “Yes, but that was only a fraction of our power. We are naught but the manifestation of the Wild, a small portion of Luna’s will.”
The Owl Spirit said, “We are nature and nature is us.”
The Boar Spirit said, “It is Luna’s will that we aid you. And so, we are at your beck and call.”
Gray nodded but found himself asking, “What does that truly mean?”
The Bear Spirit answered. “Right now…nothing.”
Puma Spirit said, “In the future…everything.”
Wolf Spirit said, “When you are in dire need, call on us. We shall aid you in any way possible, be it spell, blessing or companion. If it is in our power to help, we shall do so. This we swear.”
Before Graytael could ask anything more, the Wolf Spirit leapt forward and passed through his heart and body. It was a strange sensation, both cold and hot at the same time. One by one, the rest of the avatars of the Spirits of the Wild poured through his heart and disappeared.
* * * * *
When Gray woke up, it was still dark but the moon had sunk low in the night sky. His hunting leathers were soaked through with water and fresh snow was on his face. Sitting up, he looked around. The maenhirs had returned to their natural form, if indeed they had truly come to life. Gray felt a tightness in his chest and a slight burning sensation over his heart. Pulling open his shirt, he gazed down on the imprint of a Crescent Moon surrounded by the nine animal symbols of the Spirits of the Wild. It seemed to have been seared into his flesh. Whatever had truly happened, he was now marked.
This was a lot for a twelve year old to digest.
First, his visit to the Beriadan had been enlightening. It had given him a glimpse, however brief, into his mother’s heritage. Even though it made him feel like a baby in the eyes of the Elves and the Beriadan, it had been welcoming. But this…this was different. His meeting with the Spirits of the Wild had been overwhelming. He still was not sure what that all meant but he was certain it was something special.
Even though Rjurik and Anasazi had always treated him just like their own child, they had made certain that he had always known the truth about his parents. That they had sacrificed themselves to keep his existence a secret from the Great Enemy. It was a sobering thought to realize that he was destined to confront a being that had once fought the Gods themselves. He took cold comfort in the fact that both the Spirits of the Wild and the Beriadan had accepted him. Even though he had never known his parents, he was doing his best to follow their example.
Dusting off the snow, Gray made his way down the hill, stepped into the waiting portal of light, and left the desolate landscape of the Highlands behind.
Chapter 11
It was foggy as dawn broke on the day foretold and Blackfang moved among his men. They stretched the length of the Wall as far as the eye could see in both directions. His men were legion. Their ranks were four deep and each were mounted on spiders the size of ponies. Every warrior was a veteran, battle hardened and scarred. They just waited for the foretold omen that would signal the time for the invasion.
Blackfang moved alongside his spider steed and rubbed his hands along its hairy legs. The phase spider stood absolutely still as the scarred werewolf double and triple-checked his harness. This was the part of Lalith’s plan he was the most pleased with, the spider steeds. The spiders would allow his Legion to climb down the sheer cliffs of the Wall and attack the elves from a completely unexpected direction. With a little luck and the blessing of Clotho, his men will be at the walls of Elfholm before the elves can organize a solid defense. At least, that was the plan.
Blackfang rubbed his clawed hands together in expectation of the impending slaughter. He did gla
nce skyward at the rising sun. It was still several hours until the foretold eclipse but the scarred werewolf warlord could not help but feel excited.
* * * * *
Khlekluëllin paced back and forth behind his beautifully carved desk while two of his subordinates argue. They had been going at it since before dawn. The crown prince glanced at the water clock in the corner of his office. It was still about three hours till highsun.
Even as the two elves railed at each other, Khlekluëllin found himself once more admiring the simple precision and design of the Gnomish water clock. It had two different reservoirs for the water and a bunch of glass tubes that somehow funneled the water around which in turn powered the waterwheel that constantly moved at some set rate to turn the gears of the clock. The gnomes had also built in two small figurines in the shape of elves that would ring a chime at the top and bottom of every hour. This clock had actually been a gift to his mother the Queen but she had passed it onto him when he returned home a dozen years earlier and assumed the leadership of the Wardens.
Which brought his mind back to the ongoing argument between Iauron and Jactatör. This was one of the things he hated most about being in command but being the prince meant that he had to assume some sort of leadership role somewhere in the kingdom. At least with the Wardens, he was usually out on the frontier and not stuck behind this desk. Hell, his brother Mortharona had chosen the Palace Guards and always seemed to be embroiled in some sort of dispute between nobles. Khlekluëllin finally decided he had enough of their bickering. Slamming his fist down on his desk, the blue-haired prince knocked several scrolls off his desk but managed to get their attention.
“Enough! Jactatör, I understand your complaint and although it is unusual, it is not a violation of any custom for a half-breed to participate in the ritual.”
Jactatör started to object but Khlekluëllin silenced him with a wave of his hand.
“And Iauron was completely within his rights to dismiss you from the Wardens. It is rather simple. If you cannot trust that the Beriadan knows what she is doing, then you have no place in the Wardens.”
Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) Page 8
