Emblems of Power

by C L Patterson

  “I am Kosai,” he said firmly. “Wolf of the Capital Barracks.”

  “How fitting, perhaps your shape ought to reflect that more perfectly. Make one motion of resistance and she dies.”

  The black ropes had come from the Head Teacher. Daius made a small twisting motion with his staff and they squeezed even tighter. Kosai locked eyes with the Seer, then Daius, Mearto, and then Dark One. He showed no fear as the ropes constricted against his body.

  “I will end you, I will end all of you,” Kosai roared. The ropes lessened slightly for a split second as the teachers flinched. After regaining their poise, the black ropes continued to tighten.

  As Daius uttered the Unspoken, the power of the Faye filled the room. Kosai closed his eyes, attempting to call up his Father’s face one last time, but too late. Already, his father’s face disappeared into nothingness, and the thought of a father vanished.

  The Barracks, the training, the sparring, the lessons, one by one seceded into blackness. Each lieutenant, each recruit, each guard, each mission, dissolved in his mind, as if it had never happened. The former recruit tried to remember his name, his title, but those were now gone from him. He opened his eyes one last time and saw a woman with red hair staring at him, weeping. Her cheeks flushed red from tears and sadness. Why was she crying?

  Then he was nothing. The pressure of the Unspoken grew. The young man fell to the ground, unconscious.

  CHAPTER 26

  A lone wolf lay atop one of the many sand dunes in the desert underneath a cloudless, crescent moon night. The hot wind collided against the hill of sand and raced upward. It whipped over the lip, tearing millions of grains of sand, which coiled around the canine. The wolf coughed and snorted, blowing chunks of sand and snot out of his nose. He stood, scratched behind his ear, and sniffed the wind.

  The moon yielded little light, but upwind was a grey glow of many small fires and the smell of freshly cooked meat. The scent drew him forward, but as he stepped, his head ached. He rubbed at his brow with his forearm, his dewclaw scratching into his temple. Something, some memory tried to push its way forward into his mind, and as the wolf focused on it, it disappeared and faded back to where ever it came from.

  Another pain pinched his gut and his stomach grumbled. Instinct drove him towards the smell as the creature sauntered down the dune. Sand followed him down and then clumped in a little pile when he reached the hard ground. Another trail of sand followed after. The wolf turned and growled, but saw nothing. His paw prints were beginning to disappear as the wind blew and sand fell into his impressions.

  “How did I get here?” he thought to himself. The stabbing pain in his mind returned as he reached out to grab some memory, but it was like grasping at a shadow. The pain subsided, but the question remained. His stomach grumbled again, and the wolf marched towards the smell of food.

  He snuck around the edges of the camp, keeping clear from the lights of the fires. Some groups huddled tightly around the fire, making it easy for the wolf to sniff and examine before moving on to the next. Eventually, he caught the smell again and looked to where it came from. It was three fires down, on the outside of the group.

  The wolf trotted over, keeping his body low and staying light on his feet. At the fire, the people were quiet, passing a roasted leg of some creature amongst them and tearing off chunks of cooked flesh. The wolf followed the meat around the circle, waiting for the chance to take it. He crawled closer, practically slithering across the sand. He positioned his back feet and stayed perfectly still. A man turned, passing the meat on to the next person. It was a clear shot, but the wolf didn’t jump, seeing the sharp metal sticks attached to their belts.

  The pain returned as he tried to remember what they were. He whimpered as images of the sharp metal sticks passed in his mind, stabbing the back of his eyes.

  “I think it’s hungry,” one of the people said. The man was taller than the rest with a tattoo on his neck of two snakes. He wore baggy pants and had a shirt with long flowing sleeves tied around his waist. The group focused their attention on the wolf. Some jumped back in alarm, but the tattooed man knelt down, tore of a chunk of meat and held it out to the wolf.

  “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said. The wolf curled his lips back, raised his hackle and snarled, though he didn’t know why. The man was giving him food.

  “Here,” he said, tossing the piece of meat towards the wolf. The wolf relaxed, sniffed the hot flesh, and devoured it with one bite. The juices from the small morsel exploded and mixed with saliva, instantly filling his mouth with the tantalizing flavor. “Have some more, c’mon.” The man waved a larger chunk meat in his hand. The wolf crept closer, eyeing the other members of the group and their…weapons.

  “I’ve never seen a wolf this far east before. Do you think he has a pack close by?” one of the group members asked.

  “No,” the man said, tossing the piece of meat a little closer to the group. “His behavior is almost like a dog. If he were wild, he would have sat up on the dunes and watched us, looking for some of the sick and young, or at least followed us and tried to pick one of us off.” The man turned to the wolf. “You’re not going to bite us are you?”

  “Just as long as you keep passing that meat,” the wolf thought.

  “Do we have a leash or something, a rope maybe?” the man asked the group. One of the members went into a nearby tent.

  “You’re not going to try to tame that thing are you?” another asked. Someone handed the man a rope. He quickly fashioned a loop out of it and laid it on his lap.

  “Hand me another piece of meat,” he said. A large chunk was handed to him and he held it at his feet.

  “Here boy,” he said, wiggling it around. The wolf saw the ropes, and the pain returned. Something about the black coils frightened him. He backed away slowly, but stared at the meat, torn between hunger and fear.

  Hunger won, the wolf approached, ate the meat, and the loop was placed over his head. He took a sharp breath, and tensed his muscles, then wiggled back and forth, trying to pull his head out of the loop, but the more he struggled the tighter it became. The grey light dimmed, breathing was impossible.

  “No, no!” the wolf said in his mind as everything went black. He heard something about a muzzle before he lost consciousness.

  [][][]

  When he woke, he knew one thing about himself for sure. He hated rope. It dug into his neck and made it impossible to get comfortable. It didn’t matter which way he turned, the roped pulled his head back or tugged slightly on his neck towards a post that was buried in the sand. The wolf walked over to the post and dug into the sand, attempting to find the bottom of the post, but every stroke of sand was filled with more sand.

  Sensing the futility of his effort, the wolf stopped, sat and scratched at the rope with his back leg, but the roped never moved. Rope was also tied around his head and mouth, clamping it shut, so biting through was not an option.

  The post was a cylindrical piece of wood sticking out of the ground. Near the top, a strip was crudely carved around the post, and was just thick enough for the rope to set in. If the wolf jumped, the rope stayed. If the wolf tugged, the rope stayed, if he ran in circles, the rope stayed.

  Someone was walking towards him. The wolf turned, saw the man and snarled. The man squatted and placed a dish of water just outside the wolf’s reach. Seeing the water, the wolf whimpered and pulled against the rope. The choking feeling returned. He stopped, sat and stared at the dish.

  “You have two options,” the man said. “You can either stay with us, and we will feed you, or you can go alone in the desert and die. If you were to run, you would follow us, but we do not take kindly to sharing our spoils. I have a tribe to feed. You can either aid me, or be my enemy. I will release you now. You will probably drink, but if you leave after that, the next time we meet, we will dine on your flesh.”

  The man untied the wolf’s muzzle and leash. Th
e wolf stared at the man with the snake tattoo and then looked at the water. He licked his dry lips and whimpered. The man didn’t say anything. The wolf kept his hackle raised and slowly, walked over to the water dish. He kept his eyes on the man as he lapped up the water.

  “I hope you understand,” the man said. “I would hate to kill you. Just how long have you been watching over us anyway?” The man tentatively stretched his hand towards the wolf and touched the top of his head. The wolf relaxed. He rocked his head back and forth, feeling the fingers scratch the sand out from behind his ears. The man smiled and rubbed the wolf’s head, underneath his chin and down his back. The wolf sat and let his tongue stick out of his mouth, enjoying the tender affection.

  The man smiled back at him and picked the rope up in his hand. The wolf snarled again. When the man dropped the rope, the wolf sat and panted happily. The man reached for the rope a second time and the wolf snarled again. When the man backed away from the rope, the wolf was content.

  “You don’t like ropes huh? Well right now, the rope has to go on at least until we can trust that you will keep your teeth to yourself.” There was some struggle, but the rope was eventually fitted back over the wolf’s head and the man returned to his tent.

  The wolf’s ears were back and he beat the ground with his tail as he leered at the post.

  CHAPTER 27

  As the week went by, other members of the tribe, as it was called, came up to greet the wolf. The wolf allowed them to pet his fur, scratch behind his ears, and rub his belly. He even tolerated the little children pulling his tail. Each morning, the man would put on the wolf’s muzzle, so all that he could do was growl and maybe scratch when the petting and playing got too rough. And each night, he had dish of water and meat.

  The headaches came and went as members of the tribe mentioned things like caravans, guards, trade routes, and the capital, but the wolf learned to tolerate and control the pain as he pushed back against the shadows that seemed to swell up in his mind at each word. After a week, the pain was gone and each word was just a word. There were no shadows attached to them, no daggers of pain that pushed against his skull, it was just information. He also learned that the man with the tattoo of the snakes was named Iserum.

  A fortnight after his arrival, a large tribe meeting was called. Everyone gathered in a semicircle around a big fire that was built in the middle of the camp. Iserum took the rope from the post and walked with the wolf towards the center of the fire. He held the wolf tightly to his side as he faced the crowd.

  The entire tribe was present. Women held their babies, children sat cross legged, drawing pictures in the sand, while most of the men stood with their arms folded, staring at Iserum. Iserum looked down at the wolf.

  “Sit,” he commanded quietly. The wolf understood and sat.

  “A caravan is going to be passing close by us tomorrow. It will be escorted by twelve guards, including the Captain. Our last encounter with the Captain was less than desirable, but my resource says that we should have swift success. The Captain is still injured but do not think he is an easy target. He lost his son in the uprising. My source tells me that he has no constraint to kill.”

  “Has your resource said anything about the Dark One?” someone asked from the crowd.

  The Dark One was a new word that brought pain to the wolf. The wolf closed his eyes as the stabbing pain swelled in his mind. There was a buzzing sensation and his teeth went numb as he continued to push against the shadows that the word created. Aftert a couple moments, the pain was gone.

  “He said that the man who was to kill him failed. They are working to find a solution, but until then, these caravans are our only support for food. They will have plenty of grain and old suon pulling the wagons. We leave at moonset.”

  Other questions were asked, but the wolf stopped listening after the word ‘suon’. That was the type of meat that he was fed every night and as long as more of that was on the menu, he would do whatever Iserum asked him to. The wolf was tied back to the post after the meeting. He lay down, thinking about a leg of suon and began to fall asleep. He grumbled when Iserum woke him at moonset, but realized he was closer to another good meal.

  The night passed slowly. Iserum and the wolf walked at the front of the group. The sand and wind always blew into the wolf’s face. He sneezed and snorted, blowing the sand out of his nose. Iserum had wrapped his face with some fabric. The wolf thought about something wrapped over his nose, but it would be too much like rope and a muzzle, so he disregarded the idea and walked on.

  The group walked between the dunes, covered in the dark shadows they cast. Each dune seemed identical to the wolf as the last, but each turn was intended. The wolf began to notice small differences in each dune; a small bush, a plank of wood, the height and width of each dune, and began to see how Iserum was able to lead them. The last part of the journey was to climb one of the taller dunes. On the other side of the dune was the trail that the caravan would pass by.

  Iserum called a stop near the top of a dune just as the night was beginning to disappear. The wolf perked his ears and turned them, hearing the grunts of the Suon. The scent of man sweat and grain wafted in the air. The caravan was very close.

  “Stay,” Iserum whispered to the wolf. Iserum prostrated himself on the sand, motioned for the men behind him to do the same, told them to stay where they were, and crawled to the top of the dune on his belly. All the men carried a saber on their hip. A few carried a bow and a quiver of arrows. There were twenty men in the in the party, each eager to capture the caravan. The caravan appeared as it turned from behind a sand dune. A shadow began to appear in Kosai’s mind, but he repressed it before the pain could arise.

  Iserum looked back at the men and made a motion with his arms, like he was pulling an invisible bow. The archers pulled their bows from their backs, knocked an arrow, drew the strings back, anchoring it against their cheeks, and then slid onto their backs, poised to release a small volley. Iserum lifted his hand and watched the caravan as it pulled closer and closer to the dune. When it was in front of them, the man lowered his hand. The bows hummed as the arrows rocketed upwards.

  “Take cover,” cried a guard from the caravan. Iserum turned his hand in a circle, motioning to the archers to release another volley.

  “Come,” Iserum called as the bowstrings twanged. The wolf ran towards his master. The first volley of arrows thudded against ground, caravan and a few shields. As the second volley began to descend, Iserum stood up and drew his sword. Others did the same and rushed over and down the sand dune. The archers aimed their last arrows at the guards. Each penetrated a shield, pushing the guard back against the caravan wagon.

  At the initial clash, the wolf continued to run. He stopped when he was on the other side of the battle and began to circle around, looking for Iserum. It was two tribesmen per guard. Each blow from one of the tribesman was deflected with sword, spear or shield and then countered with a stab or slash. He ran from tribesman to tribesman, searching for his master.

  Iserum was being driven back against one of the wagons. The captain, who wore a four pronged amulet, blocked every blow with his sword and each strike was to kill. Each of the captain’s attacks fell like thunder and snapped like a snake bite, the black and red tinted blade cracking and chipping Iserum’s sword. The captain’s back leg was covered only by cloth. Eagerly, the wolf sprinted towards the captain and bit through the captain’s calf. The captain screamed and turned. The wolf released, but the captain was quicker. The Captain struck his sword down. The blade flashed a red tint in the morning light and the blade slashed down the wolf’s back. Blood sprayed out over the captain. In the next instant, Iserum thrust his sword through the captain’s neck. The captain jerked as the blade was pulled free, then fell down, blood bubbling from his throat.

  The wolf howled in pain and ran underneath a wagon as the fight continued. Guardsmen turned from their fights to tend to the dying captain, but it was too late
. The momentous kill had been done and within seconds, the guards surrendered. The drivers jumped out from their wagons and were lined up next to the suon. Iserum walked in front of each, but the wolf couldn’t hear what was said. His back felt like it had been struck by lightning and everything grew dark again.

  [][][]

  The wolf awoke as the sun was setting. His back was bandaged and he was lying on a blanket. Iserum knelt next to him, rubbing the wolf’s head. Another man was looking at the wolf’s back and unwrapped the bandages. A bittersweet gel that smelled like mint and vinegar was applied to the long cut.

  “What do you think?” Iserum asked the healer.

  “I’m not sure. This infection is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It attacks the blood and turns it black. See here, on the back, the veins are turning dark red. The infection spreads quickly, and will soon get to his heart, but your creature is fighting hard against the disease. I have applied the strongest medicine we have, and with it… I can only hope that he will make a full recovery. Hold him down, the wound must be closed.”

  The man held the wolf’s head and waved for others to help him. More men came and held each of his limbs and the healthier parts of his chest tightly as the healer wove thread in and out of the wound. The wolf felt a slight tug as the needle poked through his flesh, but there was no pain.

  When the stitches were complete, and the bandages redone, the wolf was again leashed and muzzled outside Iserum’s tent and was given a blanket to lie on. Iserum chose not to stay in his tent, but lay next to the wolf, gently scratching and petting behind the ears. The muzzle was only removed when fresh suon and water was brought.

  The bandages were worse than the rope. It was like an itch on the inside of an ear, and the wolf hadn’t the strength to relieve the annoyance. It hurt to move his legs, to rock his head, to do anything. Searing hot pain raced from the wound and pulsed up and down his back. His stomach and ribs ached from tensing at the pain. The wolf whimpered and wined, and then looked up at Iserum.