Brace For the Wolves

by Nathan Thompson

  I was about to uncomfortably point out that I didn't really do much of that, that I had left most of the comforting and soothing to the other refugees, when Guineve spoke up again.

  “They would have been like Stell was, when she made me. Do you realize that?” Guineve asked firmly. “Do you realize that Stell was even smaller than Little Gabby when she fled here to Avalon? When she escaped the devouring of her world?”

  “No,” I said as my voice caught in my throat. “No, I hadn't realized that.”

  “She took everything she remembered about her own mother,” Guineve continued. “Her own aunts and older sisters, every ounce of maturity she could scrape out of herself, mixed it in with every happy memory she had of being comforted, and made me. She made her first Satellite before she was old enough to enter what your people call kindergarten. That's extraordinary. An unheard of feat among Starsown. And she was able to do it because she was hurting that much. She was that desperate to be comforted. So she made me.” Her stare intensified. “She made me to comfort her. That was my purpose, Wes. To comfort a scared and lost little girl that had just seen her parents and sisters and aunts and friends devoured alive by a monster that was obsessed with her. And everyone who loved her was gone, because the thing craved her and they all got in its way. So when she came to Avalon, she was lost, and alone, and was feeling like everything bad that had just happened was her fault. For every minute she spent making me she was hungry and cold, screaming for her mother, her father, for anyone big and safe enough to make things better and tell her everything would be okay again. You once asked me what my role here was, Wes, and I evaded your question. But this is the truth, Wes. Helping Stell manage the worlds under Avalon is not my purpose. Defending Avalon is not my purpose. My purpose is taking care of a scared and frightened little girl.”

  She was still staring at me, without her gracious smile or the confident smirk she sometimes wore instead. It was unsettling seeing her make such a serious expression, and for so long.

  “You're probably wondering why I am telling you this now, Wes. Be patient with me, and I will explain.”

  I didn't know what to do, other than nod obediently. She kept talking, but I'm not sure she even noticed my gesture.

  “I'm telling you in the first place, because you asked if I was alright. Twice. Which meant you didn't know I was okay. That's a habit of yours, Wes. Did you know? You keep trying to see people until you know they're okay. Like you tried to do with the other Earth girls. Like you did with all the rest of these children. You weren't sure they were going to be okay, so you took them with you. That was the real reason, Wes. Not because of what you thought your job was. You were worried about the children, and so you took them with you. So that you'd know they were okay. Now back to my story. Wes, understand that it was my job to look after Stell. It's not an appropriate job for a Satellite. A Starsown is supposed to be in charge of her own Satellites. She is supposed to mother them. But since Stell couldn't mother herself, she didn't have a choice. She made me. To be a mother. So I could hold her when she cried and tell her everything was going to be okay. And I did that, until she got old enough to be independent and start to handle things on her own. And I had to let her do that, Wes, because I'm not really her mother. I'm just a part of her that wants to be one. So later, when she got bigger and started telling me nothing was wrong, that she wasn't still having nightmares about Cavus and didn't need me to try and take those memories away from her again, I had to let her go. I fought, at first. I didn't want to stop being a mother. I don't really know how to stop being a mother, Wes. Not to little ones that cry in their sleep. But Stell isn't a little one anymore, Wes. She's the Steward of Avalon. She's in charge of me and I have to respect her authority, however much I still want to test and tease her, because I love her so. Even though she won't let me be the mother she made me to be.”

  “I'm … sorry,” I said uselessly. “I didn't know.”

  “And you weren't supposed to, Wes,” Guineve nodded, still talking in that neutral, formal tone, still giving me nothing, not grace, not condemnation. “You were a Challenger. You were supposed to save our worlds and then go home, hopefully much better for the experience. You weren't supposed to get that involved with us, except maybe for Breena. Most Challengers don't even meet Stell at all, just myself or one of her other Satellites. So you saw me in the roles I had assumed when Stell had mostly grown up, that of assisting her with whatever duties came up on Avalon. And that was supposed to be all. But now that is gone, too, Wes,” Guineve said as her voice caught. “My Little Star has gone somewhere I cannot reach. So I cannot find or help her. So normally, right now, Wes, I would be left with nothing.”

  She had begun to look away as she spoke, but I still caught her voice crack again. My hands lifted up, and then stopped again, because I hated to see how much pain she was in but I didn't know how to help her.

  “Bear with me darling,” she said, finally smiling. “I'm almost done. And I can tell how much you're worried about me, and like Breena, and like Stell, I can tell how much you care for me and though the risks you've taken on our behalf infuriate me, I still love you for being brave and selfless and good. So do Stell and Breena, though they're too embarrassed about letting you know.”

  Breena must not know that I hear what she says right before I go to sleep, I realized.

  But what I didn't realize, was what exactly all these beautiful women meant when they said they loved me.

  “My point is that the day I have always dreaded has come, Wes. Stell isn't here for me to help anymore, so there should be nothing left for me. But there are children, Wes.”

  She looked out and pointed at the children still giggling and playing with Breena.

  “I couldn't believe it when I saw them here,” she continued. “We never let anyone stay at Avalon, Wes. Stell's always been too afraid of being discovered. Even when she convinced herself that Cavus was just a bad dream. So we never let anyone visit here but Challengers and Icons, and even then those were only projections. That was why I was surprised to find out that there were people here, especially other children. And then one of them skinned their knee, and came running up to me.”

  Oh, I thought, feeling stupid. That's what this is about.

  “Even though she already had a mother. Most of them do. But they still come running up to me when they get hurt, or when they need something, or when their own mother will bring them to me because they have a question. I was able to rock a child to sleep today, Wes. Do you know how many hundreds of years it's been since Stell let me do that for her?”

  “So...” I said carefully. “You're happy,” I guessed.

  “I should not be,” Guineve replied. “My Little Star is still in danger, though you have done much to protect her. And do not avoid credit for that, Wes. That dragon aided her to aid you. She fled Cavus safely, because of you. Even I escaped Cavus safely, because of you. It infuriates me that you made such a sacrifice in my place, and then when I was recovering, you came and rescued me again.” The tall woman sighed. “Challengers are supposed to help our worlds, Wes. They're not supposed to help us.”

  I said nothing, because I didn't want to offend her, and because I wasn't planning on apologizing.

  “Wes,” Guineve said, and I got the impression she was about to change the subject. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. For getting my Little Star to safety. For saving me from a nightmare. For coming to my aid again. And for giving me little ones again, after thousands of years.”

  She took a step closer to me. “But I hate the way you were hurt to make all of this happen. Challengers suffer. We've accepted that. They die and come back. But they are not supposed to die over and over again, Wes!” Guineve suddenly snapped, and I almost flinched in surprise. “And they are not supposed to be left alone with Cavus! He hates boys! He could have killed you or done something far worse!”

  He did kill me, I didn't say. I just met her angry glare as best as I could, offerin
g neither offense or repentance.

  The stately woman closed her eyes, and took another deep breath. She held it for several seconds, and then released it out of her nose.

  “Wes,” she finally said. “I'm sorry. So much has happened that it is difficult to say everything to you that needs to be said. I will try anyway.”

  Guineve took another breath, and it struck me that with all of the time I had spent training on Avalon, this was probably the first time I had seen the regal woman struggle with words.

  “Thank you for caring for Stell,” she said finally, then continued. “Thank you for saving my very soul from Cavus' mad desires. Thank you for apparently battling him a second time on my behalf, and on Stell's. Thank you for rescuing Breena, and the refugees from all of the worlds we care about. Thank you for caring for the refugees long-term. Thank you for coming to save me again, and making it to where I could escape with you, and then providing me children to care for again, for the first time in well over a thousand years. That is most of what I have to say to you, my good and beautiful Wes. But I can feel your hurt from here, and I mourn for you. And now that you're probably going to be stuck here, with me and everyone else, instead of going back home to your family and hopes and dreams, I need to make sure you're going to be okay. Will you not be like Stell?” Her voice grew soft. “Will you come see me, if you need to cry?”

  Back home a beautiful and older woman offering her shoulder for me to cry on would have been all sorts of inappropriate. And back home sucked, because all of the people society said I should talk to and trust to fix things stabbed me in the back and locked me into a torture/murder hell.

  To hell with it, I thought. I need someone to talk to, and everyone else is technically either a subject or an employee.

  “Honestly, Guineve,” I replied. “I feel shot to pieces. I could use all the hugs I can get.”

  “Good,” she said simply. Then the next moment she had wrapped her arms around me. “Sweet Wes. Good Wes. I will do my best to protect you, any way I can. Just as you have done for me. You are not alone. And you are very precious to all of us.”

  I almost lost it right then and there. Even though I had thought I was fine a few seconds ago.

  But that's the thing, isn't it, I finally realized. We'd all been through Hell. None of us were fine.

  But maybe that would be okay.

  “Guineve,” I said, choosing to return her embrace. “Thank you. I'll have to take you up on that when I finally have time to grieve. And you're right. I probably need more help than I know. And all the help I can get.”

  “You have it, kind, dear, Wes,” she said to me. “You have all of it.”

  As we started to let go, a little voice called out from our knees.

  “Mama Guineve?” a little boy, one of the few with us, asked as he pulled on the tall woman's dress. “I hurt my thumb. Can you make it better?”

  “Yes, darling,” Guineve said, a wide smile breaking out over her alabaster face. “Let me see.”

  She flashed her eyes at me just briefly, a look of joy and gratitude so intense I could tell it almost hurt her to show it. I left her to her new favorite job. It looked like it was really good for her, and if I had to guess it was helping her recover even faster than she had before.

  Which was a good thing, because I had a planet to reclaim. The annoying thing, though, was that most of what everyone had to do was wait. It just didn't make sense to go after another Horde Pit or open up another part of the sealed-off shelter until Guineve was at one hundred percent. So all that left was making sure the seeds were well planted and that my new citizens had their needs met.

  Virtus had said I hadn't recovered enough to start training again and the three Testifiers and Breena agreed with him. He did walk me through a few slow physical exercises and some very easy sword forms, but that was it. Breena and Karim both insisted I wasn't ready to resume magic training. I hated that. It felt like everyone had started walking on eggshells around me, but after seeing how slowly my mana and stamina pools were recovering, I had to admit I probably needed more rest.

  Breena took over the seed-planting, along with a few of the refugee women. She said her being a fairy as well as having the Ideal of Wood would help us grow crops in no time. Again, I wasn't sure how that would work because Avalon was covered in forests and on Earth people tore down forests to make plowable farmland. But she just gave me a patronizing pat on the head and told me not to worry about it.

  Eventually people just started yelling at me to get back in bed. So that was what I did.

  As I slept, I dreamed.

  Part of me was bound below, raging in the bloody burning dark. Such was my might that my entire sky was sealed off with walls and ceilings and layers and strata and mountains of heavy rock. The only light came from my rage. The only heat came from my rage. From time to time I would throw my heat and rage and light against the prison walls and ceilings, and parts of them would crack and fall into me, feeding until I needed to vomit them back. The world above my dungeon lived and grew because of my tantrums, even as they endangered it. It had become small, and weak, but that was not my fault. Being bound down here with HIM, was already enough of a sacrifice.

  I had thought otherwise, once.

  I had nearly freed him, in fact. I had nearly freed myself.

  But then I learned he was a liar, and sought to destroy or consume me. He would have been free, but I still would have been bound, reduced to a puppet of his, or a favored pet at best.

  So I thrashed. And I raged.

  And somehow, I brought fire and life to the place outside this rocky tomb.

  Another part of me was wrapped above, twisting about in the cold and bright sky. I was constantly in motion, performing patterns I was bound by duty to keep. I was not contained, but I must contain everything else. I was cold and I was fierce but I was also bright, and the combination of such sealed the one below, the one who hates. My movements were also harsh and unforgiving, but they still somehow brought breath to all of those below.

  I wanted to leave, but I was restrained by HIM.

  I do not know if I can trust him.

  But he demands that I wait for the proper time. There is a pattern and a proper time to all things, he says.

  I hope that is true. But I suspect he does not know all.

  These two parts of me spoke to each other now, demanding to know what happened, what was going on, and what was to come. They circled around each other, and the images of two giant wolves hovered above them like ghosts. Both wolves were gaunt and hungry, and as they snarled and growled at one another they shifted into smoke, until they became dragons. The one on the left was long and sinuous, while the one on the right was bulky and powerful. They snapped and twisted and fought at each other, and as they did so the two separate pieces of me walked towards each other, exchanging information with every step, until finally they were right next to each other. Then they raised their hands and lead forward, touching their hands and foreheads together and shifting again, as if they were becoming both smoke and liquid at once. They stepped into each other and merged completely into one patch of smoky liquid, that reformed into another version of me. This version was colorless and translucent, but I still could make out patches of scales instead of skin, and claws instead of normal fingers. This Wes also had a more pronounced jaw, and with more teeth. When he finished forming, he shook his head and flexed his limbs experimentally, finally nodding in satisfaction.

  “That's better,” he said. Then he turned to look at me.

  He did not seem impressed with what he saw.

  “That's what we look like most of the time? Pink, porous hide? Blunt, thin nails? Only one row of teeth? No wonder we're still a virgin.”

  “You are almost certainly misdiagnosing the root causes of that condition,” I replied sarcastically. “But what on Earth is going on? Why are we here? And why were you two pieces a few minutes ago?”