“Do you see those tracks, my lord? ” Byeli said, interrupting Albrecht’s pondering. He pointed towards a set of animal prints that crossed their path.
“Yeah. A hare. Big one at that, ” Albrecht said, squinting in the snow glare. “So? ”
“It is no mere hare. Its tracks mark the boundary between the bawn and the outside world. It is the spirit we call Steadfast Friend. He aids the warders in keeping the territory. ”
“Yeah? And so once we cross over those tracks, this spirit’ll know we’re here? ”
“Exactly. Of course, the Garou defenders already know, thanks to the lookout howl we heard. This is merely another line of defense. "
Albrecht nodded and stepped over the tracks. He stopped and listened, glancing around, with an odd, unfocused look in his eyes. He called on a trick the spirits had taught him and peered into the Umbra, the spirit world reflection of the material world that lay just beyond the barrier called the Gauntlet. The Gauntlet was thin and weak in this pristine wilderness, allowing his vision easy access.
Surprisingly, the forest looked almost the same as it did in the material world. That was a positive sign; it meant there was a good accord between the two, that the spirits and their material counterparts—trees, animals and even the rocks—were thriving. Albrecht frowned as he looked closer. Things were indeed alive, but there were signs of ash in various places, as if fires had come through sometime in the near past and the forest had not yet reclaimed the burnt ground.
His eyes followed the tracks but saw no sign of movement or any sense that a spirit watched him, beyond the usual heebie-jeebies one got when looking into the Umbra. Things always watched you, but they weren’t always animate or even sentient.
He blinked and looked back at Byeli, who waited patiently on the path behind him. “It’s funny; I see signs of old fires in the Umbra, but not here in the physical world. ”
Byeli nodded. “Zmei fire. The dragons fought at the edges of the bawn, and destroyed much of the spirit landscape. There are a few dead trees and groves here as testament, but they are well off the path we travel. "
Albrecht nodded and whistled. One of the Garou warriors from the train jogged forward. He was tall but somewhat thin and he carried a large silver knife in am ornate sheath at his side. “My lord? ” he said as he bowed his head.
“Goldflame, " Albrecht said, putting his hand on the warrior’s shoulder, “I want you and Birchbark to scout the path ahead. Go about fifty paces in front. Don’t get out of yelling distance—for a human throat, not a wolf’s, although you two had best take to all fours. ”
“Yes, my lord! ” Goldflame said, his form already shifting and reforming from human to white and yellow-furred wolf, his clothes disappearing but his knife remaining in its sheath, now wrapped about his back. He barked a command in the wolf tongue to the group behind him, and another warrior—a female—shifted into wolf form, this time a white-and-gray-maned one. She trotted forward, obviously happy to take her birth form, and she and Goldflame ran past Albrecht, kicking up snow as they sped down the path ahead.
Albrecht began walking again. The line of warriors followed behind him, the horses and sled in the middle, guarded from the front and behind.
“Hey, Byeli, ” Albrecht said.
“Yes, my lord? ”
“That city your sept is in, Zagorsk. Do all the monasteries in Russia look like that one back there? With the Disney onion-top domes? ”
“I don’t understand.... ”
“You know, that brightly colored la-la stuff. Bright blue with gold stars, gold leaf, red and white designs and all. ”
“Ah. I think I know what you mean. Most people think Russians are bleak and boring. One look at the Trinity Monastery says otherwise. Yes, it is colorful. But no, not all monasteries are like that. Many are indeed bleak and gray. ”
“Just curious. I gotta admit, as soon as I saw it, I figured it was the sort of place Firebird would like. Lots of colors. Passionate monkdom. ”
“We do visit the monastery now and then, as do many tourists. Our own abode, I’m sure you’ll agree, is much more humble and unremarked. ”
“If you can call catacombs humble. I did like the bit where you draw back the ceiling at night to reveal the moon and stars. ”
“Only during rituals. It stays closed most of the time. We perform most of our duties by candlelight. ”
“Pretty strange for a Firebird sept, you gotta admit. It’s one of Helios’s brood, after all. ”
“No, it is tradition. Realize that up here, many months are without sun. The candles signify our tending the flame from which our totem can arise. ”
“But the Crescent Moon caern we’re heading toward is all outdoors, right? ”
“Not entirely. The ritual area is under the open sky, but the true spiritual center is... well, you shall see for yourself. I do not wish to spoil the wonderment. ”
Albrecht chuckled. “Okay. I can wait. I’ve waited a whole week so far, all of it on foot. I can wait a day or two more. ”
Albrecht had arrived with his hand-picked guard at the Firebird Sept, Lord Byeli’s home—or at least, his adopted home, for he was native to the British Isles. He had been trapped in Russia by Baba Yaga’s Shadow Curtain and made the Firebird Sept his new home.
The weird thing was that it had been Arkady’s sept also. In fact, he’d been its leader once he returned to Russia, exiled from the States by Albrecht. The problem was, he hadn’t told anybody about his exile, and had made himself out to be a hero. He’d gotten away with it for as long as he had because—damn him—he was a hero. When the chips were down, he came through with flying colors. He wasn’t stupid or a coward, just self-obsessed to the point of arrogance, little realizing that allying with the Wyrm did not mean he could control the Wyrm.
Albrecht had met with the sept’s new leader, Rustarivich, who was desperate to be seen as an ally of a powerful Silver Fang king. Tvarivich was consolidating Russia under her rule, with each sept leader capitulating to her demands. But Rustarivich wanted some degree of autonomy, and the only way to get that was with strong allies who could balance Tvarivich’s power. Rustarivich was by no means disloyal to Tvarivich or unwilling to work with her; he just wanted to do so on his terms, which ironically meant conceding to some of Albrecht’s own.
Those terms involved allowing his crew to open moon bridges to the Firebird Sept anytime they wanted, and some training for his seers in spirit secrets developed during the long night of the Shadow Curtain.
What’s more, his Silver Fang packs could pledge to the Firebird if they chose to, giving those packs strange powers in a part of the world where that totem was largely unknown.
Then, with the gift of provisions, the horses and sled, and the counsel of Lord Byeli and Nightmane, Albrecht had set off for the Crescent Moon caern, to meet Tvarivich and make pacts between their respective septs. He had initially assumed they’d just hop a moon bridge from Zagorsk to the heart of the Urals, but the Crescent Moon was denying any moon bridges that didn’t originate in septs already aligned with Tvarivich. In an emergency, he could force the issue, but this was all about diplomacy, not expedience. Once he and Tvarivich came to terms, he could have his moon bridge, not before then.
At first, he’d fumed and taken his rage out on a number of trees outside of Zagorsk, felling them with his grand klaive in single sweeps. That effort tired him enough to make him finally sit and think about the situation, and accept it. He still had the upper hand, and Tvarivich knew it. Her tactics were measures to keep her dignity and the illusion of supreme power, but Albrecht wasn’t the one defending the most ancient caern from newly hatched Wyrm beasts. She needed him, and that knowledge was enough to make him smirk at the insulting demands and rude welcomes.
Albrecht’s entourage walked the rest of the day and into the night, stopping only to let the horses rest and eat. Around midnight, they made camp in a clearing and took shifts sleeping while others did guard duty. Albrecht sta
yed awake for a while longer, pondering some of his diplomatic tactics. He wasn’t that great at the subtle stuff, but his earnestness and reputation usually got him what he wanted... eventually. He knew he’d have to be firm and withstand a lot of false offers, and probably walk away (or threaten to) a number of times before Tvarivich finally realized that bluffing wasn’t his style. In the end, they’d surely come to some sort of accord. He hoped she was as reasonable as Byeli and Nightmane made her out to be, behind her legendary icy mask of bitter anger. She’d certainly seemed so when they’d met last year at the Margrave's caern to tackle the Jo’cllath’mattric affair.
He heard some gruff commands from one of his guards—Black Hammer, it sounded like, the big guy from Montana who’d joined his sept a few summers ago— and then heard a soft barking reply. Nightmane entered the clearing, her black fur a shadow on the snow. He raised his arm and Black Hammer lowered his hammer— the fetish he carried that earned him his name. Nightmane padded over to Albrecht and sat down. He motioned to the cooling fire and the meat still hanging over it on a spit. She nodded thankfully, rose up and began to chew straight from the spit.
“So, what are the spirits saying? I bet they haven’t seen anything like us for quite some time. ”
Nightmane shifted into human form. Her thick furs transformed into an old, hand-sewn bear pelt coat and hood. “They are curious, ” she said, sitting next to Albrecht again. “They can see the crown upon your brow, so they know you are important. Falcon himself often perches in the mountains surrounding the caern, so they are quick to bow to his allies. They recognize the crown as something bearing his power, although it also bears other powers even greater than he. ”
“Yeah, Luna and Helios both. I know. Well, as long as they know we're friendly and don’t try anything funny, we’ll get along okay. ”
“They will not interfere. They will gather, however, in increasing numbers to watch what occurs here. Any major pact between Garou septs is a matter important to the spirits, especially those who might one day be called upon to teach secrets or to enter into fetish pacts. ”
Albrecht nodded. He was glad Nightmane was here; she was a good Theurge, a spirit seer, and seemed quite loyal to him even though they’d known each other only a few weeks. But he missed Mari, his packmate. He was used to turning to her for shamanic advice. She didn’t give him any bullshit about it or try to put honey on top. He missed that sort of frankness. As a king, he got a lot of obeisance, both willing and grudging, but he usually had to force a frank statement out of his followers; they were too used to proper etiquette, the kind enforced by most Silver Fang kings. Albrecht was nothing like most kings.
He also missed Evan. The kid was a good diplomat. A little too trusting, sometimes, willing to give others the benefit of the doubt even when he knew they’d squander it, but that willingness made him a lot of allies and won him a lot of respect even among the Get of Fenris back home—and those Adirondack hunters were no softies. He could sure use the kid’s advice here. Not that Evan was a kid anymore, but he was still younger than Albrecht or Mari.
He’d wanted them to come, but he also knew how tough that would be on them. This was a Silver Fang affair; they’d be fifth wheels with little to do and almost no renown to win for themselves. Besides, Evan had this big affair to take care of with his own tribe. He’d finally wedged his way into the trust of the big honchos, like Aurak Moondancer, and had been invited north to hang with them. That would be a great opportunity to win some honor and steer some folks to his way of thinking. If he could get the Wendigo to put aside some of their hatred of the “Wyrmcomer” tribes, as the European immigrant Garou were often called, they’d have a real coup when it came to uniting against an enemy.
Mari hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. She wanted to support him, but she knew that a month or two among Silver Fangs would try her patience. She’d decided to stay in New York, but was only a moon bridge jump away at the Finger Lakes if it came to trouble.
Nightmane’s form melted into that of a wolf. She curled up into a ball and buried her face in her fur, falling asleep within minutes. She’d earned the right after trekking ahead of their party for days on end without sleep.
Albrecht stood up and stretched, and went to relieve the guards. He felt wide awake; it would do no good to have a warrior who needed sleep wasting his time watching for enemies when Albrecht could handle that duty. He passed the night uneventfully, pacing back and forth around the edge of the clearing.
Upon first light, they struck camp and took to the old trail again. It was a hunter’s trail, cleared generations ago and still maintained by the occasional trapper or Garou. They soon reached the mountains, where Byeli led them to a small path, surrounded by high walls on either side, wide enough for two Garou, but tight for the horses and sled. They re-hitched the pair single-file and began wending their way through the pass. Around noon, the trail grew too treacherous for the horses; they would have to leave them behind.
“I don’t like leaving them here to get eaten, ” Albrecht said. “They’ve served us all right, and deserve better. ”
“Agreed, ” Byeli said. “Now is when we summon aid. With your permission...? ”
“What, you’re gonna call out to the locals? ” Albrecht looked around, watching for any signs of hidden Garou.
“Exactly. They’re expecting it. They will guard our sled while we continue on foot. ”
Albrecht nodded and Byeli threw back his head and let out a loud howl. A distant howl somewhere down the trail answered within moments. Byeli responded with another howl, and soon a pack of wolves could be seen at the far end of the trail, coming from around a bend. They were a mix of gray and white, magnificent specimens. As they approached, the lead wolf shifted into human form, a towering man with close-cropped hair and a bull neck, dressed in military snow fatigues.
“Greetings, King Albrecht, ” he said in English with a heavy Russian accent, bowing his head and shoulders. The wolves behind bent their knees and lowered their heads. “Welcome to the Sept of the Crescent Moon. We are much pleased that you have come so far, following in the steps of your ancestors. ”
“Thanks, ” Albrecht said, nodding but not bowing. He was the king here. “It was a good trip. I don’t often get back to nature for so long at a stretch. I can’t wait to see this caern you got; it’s legendary all over. ”
The man responded with a faint smile. It looked genuine, but he seemed unused to smiling and unsure how to do it. He instead bowed again and swept his hand back toward the trail. “My name is Broken Talon. I would be honored to guide you, o king. ”
Albrecht nodded. “Lead the way. Is there someone who can watch over these horses? ”
“Of course. ” Broken Talon motioned to two of the wolves. They both shifted forms and now appeared to be Russian youths, dressed in well-worn outdoor clothing. They stepped forward and took the horses’ reins. “Please, follow me, ” Broken Talon said, and turned to walk back up the trail.
Albrecht followed, with Byeli and his warriors behind him. The trail grew more treacherous in places, requiring them to climb up steep, gravel-strewn clefts, but they could navigate these easily by shifting to fourlegged forms. As dusk approached—earlier in the mountains, as the sun disappeared beyond the western peaks—the trail inclined downwards and they soon broke into a small field, the walls stretching far on either side, revealing a vast, forested valley. In the distance, the sound of roaring water signified more than one waterfall.
“My lord, ” Broken Talon said. “My lady Queen Tvarivich awaits you at the caern center, ahead and to our right through the woods. However, she has bid me lead you first to a unique feature of our caern, to our left. ” He motioned in that direction, waiting for Albrecht’s consent.
Albrecht frowned, looking at Byeli. "I guess I’ve waited this long; a short detour won’t matter. ” Byeli nodded but said nothing. “Lead on. ”
They followed Broken Talon through an ancient forest, ol
d growth untouched for millennia. The ground rose as they ascended to a higher section of the valley. Finally, they broke from the tree coverage to see a wide, roaring river split the center of the valley, thundering downwards to their right over a steep cliff face, continuing on for at least two more waterfall drops in the distance, though they could barely see that far through the mist and deepening gloom.
A bridge led across the water at a slight bend, where the river nanowed. On the far side, Albrecht could see wolves moving through the forest, watching them. They followed Broken Talon out over the bridge.
“King Albrecht! ” Byeli cried. “Look there! ”
Albrecht followed Byeli’s outstretched hand, pointing to a cliff across the river, a huge, flat surface. The sight took his breath away. He halted on the bridge, staring at it.
Its surface was carved with reliefs depicting Garou warriors, shamans and leaders, battling Wyrm beasts, appeasing spirits and sacrificing themselves for the Earth.
“The Wall of Heroes, ” Albrecht said. “I’d heard of it, but didn’t imagine it’d be so... huge. ”
“It is truly ancient, my lord, ” Byeli said. “Its first carvings date from the time of Earth’s last ice age. They are... hard to read, but stirring nonetheless, speaking to a part of our soul that understands. ”
“My lady has asked that you see the wall, ” Broken Talon said, “especially the most recent carvings upon it. ”
“Yeah, let’s see it. I can make out some stuff from here, but not most of it. " Albrecht followed Broken Talon across to the far side of the valley, past the forest and onto a small plain from which the entire wall could be seen. It was phenomenal. The ancient past stretched leftwards to primitive carvings in the far distance. The more recent past lay rightward, with the freshest carvings. He walked up to examine them and was shocked to see himself depicted on the wall.
World of Darkness - [Time of Judgment 02] - The Last Battle Page 3
