The Order of Events: The Red Wolf (14 page)

-Chapter 3-
Past

The sharp winds were picking up as Grede sat in his wooden chair, listening to the pair of Ernai that had followed him into his tent, the two slender followers standing before the seated leader, issuing words to him.
              “Great Grede, we’ve found a solution to the problem.”
              “Yes, we have. It lies only a little bit of some ways northeast from here, but we can make the distance in no time.”
              Grede sat in his chair, and pondered the news. Standing up from his chair, and testing the sharpness of his teeth on his finger, he approached the two scouts. One was biting his lip tightly, and licking the blood on its release to his enjoyment, while the other stood with self inflicted scars all over their body, mixing with ones of the sharp sands.
              Grede bore his teeth to view as he spoke. “Haten, Prend, I’m glad to hear that you’ve found such a solution, following my orders to the word. How long will it take you two to get some here?”
              The two scouts, Haten, and the scarred one, Prend, looked at one another, keeping straight form before their leader as they returned attention to him and spoke. “Well, Grede, not long. The location is actually rather good for our liking, very convenient.”
              Grede nodded and then swiped both of the clan off their feet, kicking them while they were on the ground, and then kneeling to grab the overly scarred Prend by his hair, roughly.               “That’s good, but you fools forgot something. You didn’t dispose of the remains like I told you to last time, and some young ones found them today and started playing with them. You’re lucky Sofius never got his hands on it, or he would’ve begun to wonder.”
              Prend struggled against the grip of Grede, speaking in a manner of panic. “Ouch, ouch…listen! We still got rid of it when you told us to!”
              Grede pushed Prend’s face into the sandy ground and stood above him, looking down on the figure at his feet. “That was after the fact, you fool! If it happens again, I promise it’ll be your remains turned to toys, do you hear me?!”
              Prend nodded as he got up from the ground, Haten standing at his side. “Yes, I got it. We won’t screw up again, I promise.”
              Grede went back to his wooden seating, and sat watching his two scouts as he spoke.
              “You better not, now…I’m going to make you two the only hunters from now on, until we find others we can trust with this. The lands are dead of any beasts to kill, so, we’ll remove Sofius from his position as one and only hunter, give him some well-deserved time, free of labor, so he can focus on that growing family of his. That way we won’t have his suspicion, and he won’t be in the way.”
              The two scouts nodded in agreement, not bothering to complain about the extra work, because they knew there would be no fighting the will of Grede. The two scouts then left the tent, leaving Grede upon his leading throne, in silence.

-Chapter 12-
Present

The next day, the eve of the eclipse, was passing and quiet. Samana had spent the entire day awake with her friends, and then sleeping between their beds when not.
 

The day of the eclipse had come.
              Samana awoke on the floor of the infirmary, and was being rustled into wakefulness by Maela, the healer, her aged voice ringing in her ears. “Come on, wake up. The Mother and Hoosun want you. It’s the blinking day of the eclipse. Come on, it’s past noon, get up!”
              Samana awoke, well-rested, and stood up from her spot on the floor, rubbing her eyes and questioning the time of day. “Is it really that late, already? I’ll go right to them then.”
              Samana went out the door, as Maela called out to her from inside. “They’re up in the Mother’s chamber, young one.”
 

The sky was a dark and patchy looking one. Light and darkness gathered in tranquility as the sun and moon arose, soon to be joining into one tremendous form in the sky.
              Samana entered the Mother’s chamber and strode over to the beckoning figures of the Mother and Hoosun that stood across from her, both standing at the side chamber entrance.                                                  “Come this way, Samana.” The owl said as he gestured into the chamber before her, the Mother taking the lead, speaking as they entered the side chamber with her. “I have something you should have, Samana. It should come into good use on your journey.”
              Samana and Hoosun stood at the entrance, as the Mother went over to a rather good-sized, iron chest in the chamber corner. Removing the lock, the Mother reached in and spoke of what she was to produce. “Many years ago, a warrior of your people came here, and gave up their fighting ways, and retired these. They were deposited in this chest for safe keeping.”
              The Mother turned to Samana’s amazement, revealing a well-made battle suit, made of golden trimmed cloth with runic symbols drawn upon it, and black steel padded across its shoulders, as well as a battle dress that draped from the torso section. It was very much a glorious vest, in tandem with a well-fitted skirt to hang.
              Samana held the battle dress, and was commanded by the Mother to do what was obviously to come next. “Put it on. It will serve you now, as it served its last bearer.”
              After a little time alone with the Mother, Hoosun waiting for them to finish outside the chamber, Samana was fitted into the battle fashioned vest and skirt, along with huge bracers to grace her left elbow and both knees, but all on one condition, Samana still wanted all of her belts cast upon her image, and so it was done.
              Samana looked about herself, as Hoosun was called in to look, and thought the battle wears to fit suitably.
              The young girl grabbed her old Dawn Bringer fashioned jacket, and put it about herself, and looked at Hoosun and the Mother, who looked upon her impressive presentation.
              “You look like quite the warrior, young one.” The owl said.
              Samana thought the armor fit very comfortably and smiled, looking at her hands, as she still wore her tattered gloves, not wanting to part with them. “I bet the warrior maid who wore this armor before me must have been a warrior greater than I, in their day.”
              The Mother nodded and went over to the chest. “They were such a great warrior, Samana. But I have no doubt you will be of a greater one than they ever were. I have one last thing for you to have that they left with us.”
              Samana stood waiting as the Mother produced a well-made, golden strapped belt, sheath, and great long sword. “These are yours, too, now. Take the blade.”
              Samana strapped the fine, gold belt about her waist, and took the well-fashioned steel sword in hand. The grip was grey, made of leather, the hilt gold with small runes etched in, and the blade a sturdy length of four feet, long and true.
              The stripy-haired girl surveyed the blade with impression, and looked at the etchings. “It says, to serve ‘til death, bring life on the coming dawn, and wield true to the wielder’s heart.”
              Samana sheathed the blade, and looked out the window, as Hoosun spread his feathery arm upon her back. “It seems only but little time is left. Let us go outside. It will be dark soon.”
              The Mother, Hoosun, and the warrior maiden, Samana, went down the tower stairs and made themselves seen down in the center of the Order. Blue glass ridden lanterns were lit all around the Order, as people bustled about hurriedly, lighting them.
              Samana looked as the moon was ever closer to the sun, both seeming very intimate.
              The young warrior maid looked ahead, as Mensh and her followers, Theira and Dred, were walking up the wall steps. The young Samana waved to Mensh, but it appeared she was not seen by Mensh, and was left with a look of disappointment.
              Hoosun patted Samana’s back and gestured his feathery head to the sky above.
              “She is making improvements, but you should remember that it might take her a little bit of time to get out of her current circle before she can enter yours. Be watchful now, the time is almost near.”
              Samana agreed with his words. She could not expect Mensh to be uninvolved with Theira and Dred so quickly upon her improvement; showing care for Amen and Henk, who she had always said she disliked, and even making fun with Samana as they sat next to the beds of her sleeping friends.
              The Mother stood before the great tree with the two beside her, and closed her eyes. The moment was very near. “Be watchful, this moment will lead to events that will define you, young Samana.”
              Samana stood watching the myriad of black and red above, and gripped both her short blade and long blade that rest at her side. “I can feel it coming…the heat.”

Far out from the Order, the crevice was silent, stirring with ash, blowing softly.
              Satthias stood with his son at side, and the wise one, Runa, shaking her bone faring cloak and head, as the moment was near.
              The boy watched above, as Runa spoke instructions to him, continuing the clacking of her rhythmic movement. “Remember, you must purge the world with fire. Find the one of your dreams, the one to bring new life to the world with you, and take them with you to the pit, and then make your way with the world, and leave none behind.”
              The boy stood, gripping his father’s hand, as his father did so to his in return.                                 “I understand…my purpose.”
              Satthias looked upon his only child, and felt his fear and duty rising within. This boy was his son, but how could he let him turn into a beast that would destroy the world? Did the world deserve such a cruel fate?
              Runa stopped her movement before the father and son, and bowed her head, stepping back slowly to meet those behind her. “The time has come.”
 

The sky was dark for but a moment, all who stood watching the sight at the Order were lit up, as blue light emanated the green stone walls, adding a feel of dreaminess to the scene.
              Samana watched the moon become backed by the sun, shafts of red light growing out from runic symbols driven through the surface, from one side and out the other, from eras long ago, when the wolves had first tasted birth and blood.
              The light filtered down through the runic cracks and kissed the face of the world, bright, gleaming shafts of the red light beaming down upon the ground, and all those below, in a rain of wonder.

Between the great mountains, the light shown through the mountain pass and illuminated the trio of travelers that had come with a purpose, and were now to set off a chain of events that would wrap the world in fire with its purpose.
              The old Runa pushed the boy forward from his father. “Go on, boy. Fulfill your destiny. Bow before the wholeness of the light of our blood.”
              The boy stepped forward and bowed, looking back but once, to see his father once more before the change that was to occur.
              Satthias looked upon his son, as a tear shed from his own face. “No matter what happens, I love you, son!”
              The boy smiled with his sharp teeth, as the wind picked up to a wild pace about the scene. “I love you, too, father.”
              The change had begun.
              The ground around the boy began to flake and rise with a burning will. The boy felt great warmth on his skin, as the ground beneath his feet burst with fire and engulfed him in a spinning cloud of it. Any ash that blew by the touch of the wind that came in contact with the burning storm was destroyed, and was left as less than ash, as nothing.
              Satthias looked upon the fiery sight, and thought within himself. He could not allow the world to be destroyed. What his old and loyal friend, Rartyr, from long ago had said to him had always stayed and brewed within his soul in the passing years, and now Satthias truly believed that his friend was right. The world did not deserve death, he must kill his son.
              Satthias drew his sword and proceeded to his son, as Runa watched him go, knowing that he was to do what she had feared he would have been willing to do all along…kill his own son, the last chance of their clan’s blood, for the sake of the rest of the world, but she could not have this.
              Satthias knelt before the spinning flame, as tears poured down his face, evaporating, as they burned due to the proximity of the flaming storm. “Remember, I will always love you, son, as I love you now, but I must do what is right.”
              The father raised his sword in the air, readying to stab downward, as the slight form of his son was becoming visible, as the fire began to fade away. Closing his eyes for the killing blow was near, and to be swift, he spoke. “Forgive me.”
              Steel had pierced flesh. Blood trickled from the deadly tip of a sharp blade. Death had come.
              Satthias looked down upon his son, as his arms were frozen held above his head, as a sharp blade had penetrated his own chest, blood streaming from the wound, falling down upon the ash ridden ground, and drying as the dying fire still lay near.
              Runa had stabbed Satthias through the back with a short, but very sharp blade, delivering a mortal blow to her leader, and felling him upon the ground. His sword had fallen from his grasp to lie in the ground next to his fallen body.
              Runa licked the blood on her hands, and leaned over the dead body of her leader. “You cannot destroy our only hope, Satthias. He must fulfill his destiny.”
              The fire behind the old one was fading, and a figure became clear as it stood behind her, and above her height, silently.
              The old one bared her teeth at the dying Satthias as he reached out for his son, and kicked ash into his scarred face. “Pathetic one, it is fate that this happens. You cannot stop it…”
              Runa stopped her speech, as she heard soft footsteps behind her. The last words to leave Satthias were spoken as he looked up upon the being that was, and would always be his son. “Son…I…I…I…lov…” Satthias was gone before he could finish.
              Runa took a few steps back, as fear filled her. Before her stood the mighty horror of the Red Wolf, the beastly being to bring rule to her clan, and transcendence to her blood, but she was still afraid.
              The figure looked as the boy had before, but changed. His skin was now a charcoal darkness. Embers danced upon his skin, adding what could be seen as burning freckles on his face. The figure’s hair was black and long, bushy as the wind blew softly upon the dark figure.
              Runa continued backing away in fear, her gaze still upon the horror, even as she wished to look away. The old one tripped over the fallen body of Satthias, and fell heavily upon the ash ridden ground, her gaze still upon the dark figure, as she tried to push herself up from the ground.
              The beastly eyes of the being looked down upon her, eyes burning like twin flames, infinite, and everlasting.
              The attention of the beast was drawn to his father’s corpse, as he stopped his advancement, looking upon the fallen, sad form of the one who cared for him most.
              Runa saw the manner of the beastly being, and knelt before the beastly one, speaking shakily. “I…I killed him…he tried to kill you. I had to do it. He didn’t understand your purpose, but I did. He wanted you to die!”
              The beast opened its mouth, to reveal sharp and dangerous fangs on both levels.
              Runa stared perplexed, as the beastly one bent its head back and let out a fiery howl, like that of a great beast, a wolf.
              The figure morphed shape before the old one, instilling great fear, as fur grew rapidly upon his form. His body was now that of a great wolf, with fur as red as blood, crimson hued, about his furry form. His bright yellow eyes showed true through the ferocious features of the beast.
              Runa was frozen still, as the hot breathe of the beast was let out upon her, the beast taking leap upon her, releasing no mercy, but revenge for the death of his father.